The Secret of the Guarneri
by Ongaku no Usagi
Summary: It's been almost six months since Len died, and Kahoko's heart is finally beginning to heal.  But what will happen when she finds out his death may have been more than an accident?  Sequel to "The Silence Between the Notes"!
1. Prologue

The Secret of the Guaneri

a La Corda d'Oro fanfic

_by Ongaku no Usagi_

**Disclaimer:** "La Corda d'Oro" and its characters do not belong to me. It belongs to Yuki Kure

Prologue:

I've been told it would get easier. Grief, I mean.

That it would pass away gently, like the feather of a dove in a breeze, drifting, wafting until it was out of sight. Mostly.

That I would find room in my heart for new love, that my guilty emotions wouldn't hang over my head forever, and I could carry on.

What if it doesn't?

There were times, before my freshman year of college ended and the new semester began, that I was beginning to heal, or so I thought. Days when I could smile again, almost without pain.

And Ryou would take me out to an amusement park on weekends, to ride the roller coasters, up and down, and wander through the haunted houses of plastic horror, or even just stand in the snaky lines and get sunburned, to help me to forget for awhile. Always watching me out of the corner of his eye, watching to catch my first laugh since _he _died.

I've been trying, I really have.

But it doesn't take much to open the wounds again; like a five-year-old picking at scabs on their knees: the opportunities just arise from the most insignificant things, like chocolate ice cream, or pink seashells leaving runs in the sand as the tide receeds.

Ryou always holds me when I cry, even when I wish he wouldn't. There until the tide of tears subsides, wherever, whenever it happens, he cradles my head against his chest, murmuring "Shh...it's okay..." over and over again, until my supply of liquid sorrow runs out and all I have left are burning eyes and deep sighs.

Then he smiles and tries to distract me again. Like a five-year-old. Can I really only be nineteen? I feel ages older.

So the days pass, and the lonely nights in my dorm room, just Mahou for company. I practice, I study, I go out to dinner with Ryou, and _wait. _Just _wait_ for the grief to pass. If I give it enough time, maybe it will go on its own, and I can return Ryou's kindness and unconditional care. He deserves it; I know it.

But oh...

I'm so sorry, Ryou. I'm still not there yet.

I still can't get over Len.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

"Ne, Ryou," I whispered urgently, leaning over in my seat to tug on the sleeve of the tall, green-haired young man sitting to my right, "what did Hanada-sensei mean when she said, 'Make sure to resolve the cadence with contrary motion to avoid parallel octaves'?"

There was the slightest hint of impatience in his voice as Ryou whispered back, out of the corner of his mouth, "It means that if you double the leading tone in two-voice counterpoint, you'll end up with two pairs of octaves in a row, which is against the rules."

Oh, great. Like the shade of a tree on a cloudy day, Ryou's answer was crystal clear. To a theory geek.

"Oi, I'm not Usa," I whined back at him. "Can you explain to me in normal-people speak, please?"

He sighed ever so slightly, the muscles of his wide shoulders drooping gently before he whispered back, "I'll explain after class."

"But she's moving along at the speed of light," I agonized. "I can't keep up with her at all. What if she..."

"Kaho-chan!" I froze in my seat, letting my guilty gaze slide up to the front of the class, where our theory professor stood, genki as ever and resplendent in an old-fashioned dress splattered with large green and blue rhododendrons, keenly watching the two of us in amusement. She beckoned with one finger. "Would you kindly resolve the cadence on the board for us? After you've finished your conversation, that is."

I felt my face heating concurrent with the trail of snickers that followed me to the board. Hanada-sensei stood to the side and crossed her arms to view the waterfall of sweatdrops, courtesy of the mugginess of the late May weather plus my own discomfiture, that were cascading down my forehead by that time.

The notes chalked onto the board seemed to blur together as I started to panic. Crap. Crap crap crap, I can't even tell what _key_ this excerpt is in! Is it G major or E minor?

I looked over at Hanada-sensei with eyes pleading for help, and, benevolently, she indicated, "First, tell me if there are any accidentals there that look out of place."

I looked back, forcing my vision to clear, and hunted out the accidental that appeared in the third measure of the short excerpt. Ah. D sharp. So we're in E minor. Okay. Now, keep in mind the stuff about parallel sevenths and...

"Ooh, watch out, Kaho-chan!" I jumped as Hanada-sensei's words appeared over my shoulder. "You're about to commit the ultimate no-no, remember? Contrary step-wise motion..."

I hate tonal counterpoint. I really, truly do. It all makes sense when you have one melody, and chords on the bottom for accompaniment, but when you add in the second melody, and have loads of rules for what works and what doesn't...I mean, is it really necessary? Who cares if you have don't resolve a skip up with a step down? Who came up with the word 'appogiatura' anyway?

I sighed and wrote a two F sharps, intending to resolve down to an E.

"Uh oh. Warning, warning, warning! Battleship going down! Awooga! Awooga! Ready the lifeboats!"

I appreciate Hanada-sensei's energy in her teaching. Don't get me wrong. But this was going a little overboard, wasn't it?

"What did I do wrong this time?" I asked disgruntedly. "I'm pretty sure I got everything right..."

She waggled her head at me and erased the F sharp in the treble staff. "Remember, Kaho-chan, we can't have parallel octaves, so if you change the F sharp to a D sharp, you'll have...can anyone tell me? Tsuchiura?"

"Contrary motion, which works because the penultimate note is the B natural, thus resolving the cadence with a consonant interval, complying with the rules of first species counterpoint," Ryou rattled off carelessly. Hanada-sensei beamed him a smile.

"Very good, Tsuchiura! So, Kaho-chan, as you can tell from his explanation..."

As she continued to demonstrate on the board, I shot a glance over at the complacent know-it-all, leaning back with his feet on the back of the chair in front of him.

Ooh, Ryou, I'm going to make you suffer for this...

.

"Man, counterpoint sure is tough, isn't it?" sighed the guy in a baggy Pink Floyd sweatshirt and neon headphones dangling around his neck, as he opened the heavy wooden door of the theory classroom for me, joining my pilgrimage to the cafeteria with his swinging stride. "Rotten luck, being chosen to demonstrate that problem."

"Ugh," I withered, playfully collapsing on his shoulder, which he sympathetically accompanied with a pat on my back. "I think I'm worse at this than you are, Ichi."

"Not a chance," he cheerfully replied, swinging his violin easily at his side so that the various gangsta chains and metal skulls hanging from it rattled and rustled. "You know I hold the title for worst at theory. I'm not giving it up any time soon."

"It wouldn't be so bad if Ryou wasn't so good at it," I continued petulantly. "He's absolutely insufferable when we study together, he really is. Always, 'Come on, Hino, can't you figure this out already? Handa-sensei already explained it in class'."

"Eh, he's probably pining for competition," Ichi grinned back. "Ever since Usa left..."

"Oi, I'm not pining for that obnoxious show-off," came a voice from behind us, and we both jumped. Ryou had crept up behind us somehow and was glaring at Ichi with a rather disgusted look on his face. "Good riddance, if you ask me. Hino, since when am I insufferable?"

I turned away and stuck my nose up in the air. "Go away, I'm not talking to you right now."

He snorted over my shoulder, and I jumped for the third time that hour. "Oi, will people stop making loud noises into my ear?" I complained. "What if you broke my eardrum?"

"Psh. Like that would happen," Ryou said, bumping my shoulder slightly. "Hey, you free for lunch?"

"No," I answered, still miffed. "It just so happens that Ichi and I have an _important discussion_ over lunch, and you aren't invited." I shot a pleading glance over at Ichi, who shrugged and grinned gamely.

"Yeah, we have a date," he joined with a light-hearted chuckle, putting an arm around my shoulders and winking devilishly at me.

Ryou's eyes narrowed threateningly, and Ichi removed his arm as if my back was a hot coal. "Just...just kidding!" he laughed nervously. "It's not a date, really..."

"But you're still not invited," I told Ryou coolly, not deigning to look in his direction. "Go have lunch with your theory book or something, _Tsuchiura-kun_."

"What did I do?" he asked in annoyance, crossing his arms.

"If you'd explained the contrary-motion octaves thingie in plain Japanese, I wouldn't have mucked up so bad in front of everyone," I answered.

He gave me such a perfect "sad puppy dog eyes" look that I forgave him in an instant. Darn him.

"Oh, fine, you can join us," I huffed, as Ichi once again politely held open the door to the cafeteria. "Just don't say one word about theory, or I'll chuck..." I checked the menu board "Italian-style spaghetti at you..."

Oh. Spaghetti.

_"Noodle fight."_

_"Noodle fight."_

_We started to laugh at the thought._

It's coming again.

"Ichi, go ahead and get something to eat, we'll just be right over here," said Ryou hurriedly, scooping me out of the main beeline of students over into a corner, where I dissolved into tears on his chest.

That night...that wonderful night...with the snow falling gently on the tea garden, the foggy yellow glow of paper lanterns on tatami mats...one blanket shared between the two of us...

The most perfect New Year's ever. The happiness that could have been, gone forever.

"It's okay, it'll be okay," murmured Ryou's voice into my hair, as he wrapped both arms around me.

I don't deserve this comfort, not when I had mixed feelings back then.

Len is gone, I tried to remind myself. Feeling guilty isn't going to solve anything.

I sighed and shuddered against the brick-wall of Ryou's chest.

"Are you okay?" I nodded, automatically taking the handkerchief he handed me and mechanically sitting down in the seat he pulled out for me. "I'm going to get some food...you want any?" I shook my head, and he patted my head gently. "Okay, well, if you change your mind..."

I'm not hungry in the slightest, that's for sure.

I looked over out the windows, noting my tear-streaked reflection gazing back forelornly. The students outside passed on the sidewalk, laughing or griping about classes, a few couples even holding hands. I closed my eyes in order to ignore the searing memories passing before me.

I wish I could move past this despondent me. If I just wait, maybe tomorrow will be better. Somehow.

"Feeling better?" Ichi asked as he slipped into the seat across from me and proceeded to squirt mayonnaise on top of the spaghetti. "You know, you should try to eat more often," he added in a rare show of concern. "You're beginning to look like a waif."

"He's right, Hino," Ryou said, sitting beside me and raising an eyebrow at the mess in front of Ichi. "Don't make me force-feed you. Now, then, Ichi, you look like you're bursting, but you haven't touched the spaghetti yet. Spill the beans."

I looked around for beans, but there weren't any handy.

"So then." Ichi flexed his fingers and grinned in excitement. "I, Torogawa Shinichi, have an announcement to make." He paused for a minute for atmosphere.

"Yes?" prompted Ryou, less-than-impressed.

Ichi refused to give in and instead directed his gaze at me, who was actually waiting with baited breath.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Get on with it already!" barked Ryou, twirling his spaghetti around his chopsticks and slurping it up noisily.

Ichi sat up straight with his palms on the table and said, "As of July, I am proud to announce that I will be traveling to Los Angeles to study fiddle at UCLA." His face burst out into an even bigger grin, such that I was worried his face would actually split, and, slapping the table for added effect, leaned back in his chair and looked proudly over at me for my admiration.

I granted it immediately. "That's awesome, Ichi!" I gasped. "How...how did you get in? Your grades are worse than mine..."

"I had a Skype audition after your friend Kazuki recommended me to the staff," he told me, "so it's really you I should thank. Also I think the requirements are lower in the States," he added thoughtfully. "A word from the peanut gallery?"

Ryou was grinning, too. "Well, it'll be less exciting around here without you, Ichi, and I daresay Hino here will be hurting now that she'll be bottom of the class, but congratulations! Ganbatte, ne?"

"Oi," I interjected, "what makes you think I'll be bottom of the class this year, huh? Especially if I have you helping me..." I added coyly. "Which reminds me, do you have anything going on tonight? I could use some help..."

"Yeah, you could."

Ichi winked at me. "I guess I should say, 'Ganbarimashou', for various reasons, huh, Tsuchiura?"

To my surprise, Ryou flushed and looked away to hide it. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Oh, I think you can guess," Ichi sang. "Anyway, I'm starving, so I'll dig in. You sure you don't want anything, Kahoko?"

My stomach _was _grumbling a bit. "I'll give it a shot."

.

"Ne, Ryou."

"Hm?" Ryou looked up from the page of music in front of him which he was vandalizing with various notes on phrasing and dynamics, and caught my gaze. "Something wrong? I think we were rushing the last few measures, don't you?"

"It's not about that." I laid Mahou and my bow down carefully in the case and leaned against the lid of the baby grand Ryou was sitting at. "I was just thinking, you know, about Usa going to London, and Ichi going to America..."

"The United States," he reminded me, "America refers to the continents."

"...Why haven't you left to study abroad?" I asked, ignoring his pedantics. "I mean, look, we both know you're the best in the music division here, sempai included. Even your teacher admitted that there wasn't much more he could do for you. It's only your second year, Ryou. Are you really going to be happy studying here for the next three years?"

He paused and set down his pencil, looking sternly into space. When he did look up, there was a vaguely frightening gleam in his eyes. Meaningful.

Without warning, he reached his hand around the side of the piano and grabbed mine. "Sit here with me," he said.

I saw that moment half a year ago. It was that same look of urgency that he'd had before he'd kissed me and called me "Kahoko". It froze me into a terrified statue.

Do I comply? I don't think I could bear to hurt him a second time. But I'm...still not ready.

"Hino?" He sighed and released my hand, looking down into the keys. "Wakatta yo."

I winced at the tone of hopelessness in his voice. "I'm sorry...Ryou...look, it's just...you really should move on, I don't want you to be stuck here at this college when you could do so much better..."

"That is...because you aren't ready to move on, Hino," he said quietly, still not looking at me. "You aren't skilled enough yet...but you will be," he added quickly. "Soon. I know it. Once you move beyond what happened this year, you'll be able to focus on the music, and progress...You progress so quickly, Hino. I can't wait to see what you'll do next." He smiled up at me.

Ryou...he's so kind.

The quietness of the practice room pressed upon our silence as we gazed at each other.

"And then we'll go forward together," he concluded. "We can conquer the world, you and me. So I'll wait as long as it takes."

Move on...I have to.

My feet seemed to step forward on their own, though my hands traced the side of the piano lingeringly, as if looking for a handhold to keep me back.

Ryou's face beamed at me as I finally settled down hesitantly on the piano bench next to him.

"There now, that wasn't too hard," he said softly, reaching out one hand.

I let it land on my cheek and closed my eyes in a vain attempt to settle the pounding of my heart.

I do like him. I know it. What if I just let these feelings of uncertainty pass, and accept the fact that we seem to be meant for each other?

"Kahoko..." His voice murmured closer to my face than when I'd closed my eyes. Alarmingly closer, and tilted to one side, even as I felt the palm of his hand guiding my face forward.

I need you, Ryou.

I waited for the feel of his lips.

_Ave Maria..._

From my cell phone. Again.

The two of us pulled apart with a synchronized gasp. I let my eyelids flutter open to look into his willful gaze before stumbling off the bench over to my backpack.

There was only one cell number that had that ring tone, now that Len was gone.

My hands numbly opened the phone and fumbled it to my ear.

"Misa-san?"

"Kahoko. I need to talk to you."

The last time she said that, my world died. I shuddered and forced myself to answer, "What's wrong?"

There was a pause on her side as she carefully considered and then answered, "Remember that piece we played together last January? I'd like to play that again with you. Tonight."

Eh? There was a definite note of panic in her voice, though she covered it fairly well.

I looked over at Ryou, who was frowning.

"I'll be right there."

Author's Notes: Hi, all! Ongaku no Usagi here, for the second attempt at a sequel to "The Silence Between the Notes". If you haven't read that one yet, this one won't make any sense, I assure you.

Anyway, sorry for the delay. I had the sequel all planned out very nicely, but something was just missing. Today that something popped into my head, and so I'm going to try again. Don't worry; it won't be as depressing as TSBTN.

Hopefully I'll be able to update weekly, but life is busy and so...that will remain to be seen.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

I'd forgotten how close the Tsukimori residence was to the ocean. The sound of its wistful rushing rang in my ears through the open windows of Ryou's sage green Toyota.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered, focusing on the curves of the road and taking them carefully. "Hamai-san sounded a little tense, don't you think?"

I thought back over the instructions Misa-san had given me before hanging up.

"It would be nice if it could be just you and me," was the first thing she'd said. "You know, just girl talk. And...please bring your violin. I'd like to hear the one you usually play. And also, if you can get someone to drop you off and pick you back up immediately after, I'd feel better. You know how it is, it's getting dangerous around this area. I don't want you having to walk to a train station or wait outside for a taxi. I'm sorry about all this inconvenience..."

"It's okay, I have a friend who's got a car and too much time on his hands," I'd said with a sideways glance at Ryou who, though his leg was finally out of a cast, was still having to take it easy and couldn't play soccer. As a result, he spent most of his time outside class pestering me to study or practice. Although I appreciated what he was doing for me, at times I realized I was doing more good for him than the other way around. An activityless Ryou is a restless, hyperactive, time-pandering Ryou. I wouldn't recommend incurring one for yourself.

"Good. I hate to ask this, but could you have your friend find something else to do while you're with me?"

So many questions! What was up with the secrecy?

"Sure," I said.

She took a deep sigh of relief. "All right. I hope to see you soon."

"...Yes, I'll see you soon."

With this conversation in mind, I couldn't blame Ryou for feeling suspicious about the affair. Not to mention that it was with my ex-boyfriend's mom. A veritable recipe for trouble, replete with crimped edges and spaghetti sauce splatters.

"Thanks for driving me," I said, "and sorry about not being able to invite you in."

"Not a problem," he answered, without taking his eyes off the road. "It's not your fault anyway. God, I'm going crazy with curiousity, though! Mattaku...I have to know what's up..." He continued to fume away in his sulky bubble of wanting to know even as I rolled my eyes and gazed back out the window toward the dark ocean.

Oh yes, patient Reader. Do not stick yourself with an injured Ryou. I can assure you it's not as fun as you might think.

"So I'll call you when we're done," I told him as he dropped me off at the Tsukimori gate. "What are you planning on doing in the meantime?"

"Hm...I think I'll stop by Minami instruments," he said thoughtfully, getting back into the driver's seat and leaning over to talk to me through the open window of the passenger's side. "The old man's usually there late on Wednesday nights, anyway, so I'll just stay for a cup of tea and split when you call. You sure you'll be okay?"

I glanced up at the dark windows of the house, like shut eyes against the amethyst sky, and shivered. All sorts of cold memories had started to trace their icy fingers down my spine.

But I've decided to move past it.

I can do this. One step at a time.

"Of course," I answered as cheerfully as possible, adjusting the hem on my white-and-yellow striped sundress.

"Well then, um..." Ryou cleared his throat awkwardly.

"See you."

"Yeah. Looking forward to it."

"Me too. Okay, bye."

"Bye. Wait, Kahoko," as I turned to open the gate, "um...one thing?"

"Yes?" I asked impatiently. "I really should get in there."

His face turned sheepish as he looked away. He cleared his throat again, looked up, opened his mouth, nothing came out.

"Ryou?"

"Yeah, I'll see you later. Yeah. Bye."

"Bye." For the hundredth time.

I waved as he drove off, and faced the tall iron gate boldly. Shutting my eyes, I took a deep breath...and pushed open the gate.

.

"I really wish you'd had your friend walk you to the front door," Misa-san said as she hurriedly opened the door to my tentative knock. "You never know who might be outside."

"Eh? I'm sure it's fine. I don't think anyone would go so far as to come through the gate," I answered, mystified, taking off my shoes at the door. "Anyway, how are you doing, Misa-san? Is your husband home tonight?"

"No, I'm afraid not," she said, ushering me straight from the living room into the music room in a hurried manner the Misa-san I knew wouldn't do. "He won't be back until next week...maybe that's for the best...I don't want him involved." She sighed as she closed the door behind us. "Did you bring your violin?"

I held it up questioningly, though she could already see it. I saw her gaze flit to the window quickly as I did so, but when I made to turn to look at it, she put her hands on my shoulders and made me face her.

"How are you doing, Kahoko? I've missed you, you know. You don't know what it's like, being alone..." She sighed again. "No, I'm wrong, aren't I? We both know. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to play through the Barber piece. I'd like to hear it on your violin."

As I opened up my violin case and began to tune, her eyes darted to the window again. Then she purposely sat down at the piano and we played "Adagio for Strings" again.

No two performances of a piece are the same, even in private. Our original "Adagio" had been mournful, two hearts melding together from broken pieces. This one was wistful, uncertain, and something else which I couldn't put my finger on. When we'd finished, she smiled at me. I knew that smile. I'd been wearing it for the last five months.

"Well, I should have thought of this before," she said with forceful brightness, "but we really should close that window, don't you think? The neighbors sometimes complain about the noise at night."

Eh? Neighbors? I thought mystifiedly, watching her close the window and draw the curtains tight, making sure that there were no cracks in the heavy fabric. From what I could tell, the yard was big enough that the neighbors wouldn't even be able to hear.

"And now." She turned from the window and faced me with the gravest expression I'd seen since the horrible night she'd given me the news. She took one last look around the room, then, satisfied that we were entirely alone, she knelt down and ran her slender fingers along a piece of the moulding on the bookshelves.

There was a little click, and all at once, the seemingly solid panel of maple popped open, revealing a hidden cabinet under the bookcase. Her face was set as she drew out Len's violin case.

"Eh? The Guarneri?" I asked, still more bewildered. "Weren't you supposed to return that months ago?"

She put a finger up to her lips in a warning, and beckoned me closer. As soon as I had, she grabbed the violin and case from my hands and put the Guarneri in my case, replacing Mahou in Len's case.

"Misa-san? What...?"

"Shh!" Her face lit in concern, she shook her head. "We only have a few minutes, so I need to tell you fast," she whispered hurriedly. "I'm sorry to involve you, but you're my only hope, Kahoko."

"Okay," I whispered back, "I'm fine with helping, but are you asking me to steal the Guarneri, Misa-san?"

She shook her head. "I'm asking you to save it for me. I don't want it to end up in _their_ hands.

"They've been watching this house for the last two weeks. I don't know how they figured out it was still here, but I can only assume they searched at the Academy first, where it belongs, or something of the sort. I've been afraid to leave the house since; I've even had groceries delivered. If I leave, I'm certain they'll break in and try to find it."

"Who are 'they'?" I asked, my head swirling with questions. "People from the Academy?"

She shook her head. "If only! I wish I could send it straight back to the Academy, but I'm certain _they _are tapping the lines. I have to get it out of here by a third party. They won't suspect you, because you came in with a violin case, so hopefully they'll assume you just came to work over some music with me."

"But Misa-san, if 'they' are not from the Academy, why do they want the violin? To sell it on the black market, or something?"

"Look under the label when you get back to your dorm room," she told me, her voice dipping down even more into secrecy. "Len found out just before he died. They tried to bury the secret with him. I'm convinced they were trying to destroy the violin at the same time."

If only Rumiko hadn't grabbed onto the case, if only the handle hadn't popped off, "they" would have succeeded on both accounts.

She closed both violin cases with a snap and replaced Len's case with my violin into the secret compartment. "Well, it turns out to be a lot muggier in here with the windows closed," she said brightly, reopening the windows, spreading the curtains widely. I attempted to keep from peering out. Was there really someone out there, spying on us? I held onto my case with the Guarneri and shivered.

"Thanks so much for coming, Kahoko," Misa-san said brightly, putting her arms around me. In my ear, she whispered, "Be careful going home. Make sure your friend is here before going outside, okay?"

I pulled out my cell phone to call Ryou as she walked me to the door.

"Already? I'll be right there," was his short response.

As I saw his headlights pull up into the driveway, outside the garden gate, I hugged Misa-san goodbye one last time. Her arms pulled me against her chest as if she didn't want to let me go. Both of us were shaking.

"Good luck," she whispered, and I left.

.

Maybe Misa-san was right about having Ryou walk me to the door. Peering out at the dark shadows, clouded over by the bright light from behind me, I felt like there were a hundred Ninjas ready to jump out at me at any second.

The walk to the gate seemed very long. I paused just before the gate to look back. Misa-san had drawn the ivory-colored curtains on either side of the door. I hoped she'd be alright, by herself.

And then...the intangible sense of something behind me.

I froze, unable even to step forward. It was more than a feeling. It was a scent...a foreign scent. Like when Len and I were in Italy, except different.

Every hair on the back of my neck rose.

The next thing was a step forward, soft, but not soft enough that I couldn't detect it. He..._it_ was mere inches away, just behind the bush, melding with the darkness.

Another set of footsteps, on the other side...The clouds in front of the moon shifted just enough to allow a glimpse of silver hair.

I couldn't move...couldn't even call out...

"Hino?"

I felt the shadows fade away as Ryou pushed open the gate and came toward me. "Why are you just standing there? Come on, let's get back."

I could read the underlying message: I want to find out what Hamai-san had to say!

Curiosity killed the cat, Ryou. Take notes from its grave.

As I hurried into his car, making sure my violin case went in first, I took one last look out the window. Was it just my imagination, or were the bushes moving?

"You're pale as a sheet," he commented, starting the engine. "I hope Tsukimori's ghost isn't haunting his house. I'd have a heck of a time getting you away from there."

"Hardly," I said, hugging the smuggled Guarneri to my chest.

I know now why Misa-san didn't want her husband involved. I looked over at Ryou, capable hands steering us away from the Tsukimori residence and mouth worked up to barrage me with questions.

If I tell him, I'll get him involved, and I've already had enough. I don't want to attend your funeral, too, Ryou. I'll take care of this thing myself.

But in the meantime, I have to figure out what to do with the Guarneri. I can't very well bring it to lessons, much as it would make my playing sound fantastic. Should I borrow a violin and say mine needed repairs or...

"So what did Hamai-san want?" Ryou broke into my thoughts. Darn him. Asking the very questions I was trying to figure out how to answer. He gave me a sly look out of the corner of his eye. "'Fess up, now. What's all this secrecy about?"

"Eto...ano...that is..." I searched around wildly for an excuse. "Aha! She wanted to give me some new music!"

"...New music?" He raised his eyebrows non-plussedly. "You don't have any sheet music with you now."

"That is...because...I accidentally left it there!" I answered, knowing full well he could see through my lies. I'm about as transparent as a squeaky-clean windowpane, and I know it.

"Then we should go back and get it," he said, gracefully taking a U-turn at the traffic light and heading back in the other direction.

"NO!" I screeched, impulsively putting my hands over his on the steering wheel.

"Oi, watch it, you trying to get us killed?" he asked angrily, swerving to miss a horn-blaring car to our left. "Right that does it," he determined, pulling into the empty parking lot of a convenience store.

I panicked and tried to exit even before he stopped in the parking spot. Darn it, whoever came up with child-proof doors, anyway?

Ryou took advantage of my vain attempts to open the locked door, and grabbed both of my wrists, forcing me to face him. The shadows from the street lamps cast a menacing starkness over his face, the seats, the dashboard of the car, the engine still droning under the hood.

"Let me go!" I exclaimed, nearly in tears. His grip on my arms wasn't exactly dainty, and my thrashing about made it hurt more.

"Kahoko. Kahoko, damn it, look at me! I need you to answer me!"

"You have nothing to do with this, Tsuchiura Ryoutaro! This is none of your business!" I cried out wildly, still trying to escape.

"If it's your business, it's mine, too!" he answered angrily. "Since when do I not get involved with what concerns you? Do you trust me so little?"

"No, I won't get you involved, I can't..." I broke off in humiliation and looked away. "If I tell you, you might get hurt," I whispered. The cat was more or less out of the bag; I just had to make him understand how important it was not to go chasing after it.

"Kahoko." The warmth of his voice spread a blanket over my shivering soul, and he drew me near, letting go of my wrists to put his arms around me completely. I gave in to the warmth, closing my eyes against his soft grey T-shirt and trying not to cry.

"I love you."

I gasped as he breathed the words into my hair, ashamed to raise my head to look at him. I'd said the words first, after all. I was a little fool, yes. But he meant them, these words, so inherently full of meaning, innocuously deep.

"I won't have you facing whatever this is alone," he continued, rubbing his cheek against my hair. "Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself. But I'm more concerned about taking care of you. You're the most adept person at getting yourself in trouble I know."

"Oh, thanks," I said dryly, pushing away. He gave me a little smile.

"Ready?" he asked.

I told him as briefly as I could. The look on his face could've made me laugh, if the matter weren't more serious. If I hadn't already lost someone dear over the information.

"What's under the label?" he asked curiously. "Maybe it's not a Guarneri after all, or something?"

"I don't think that would be worth killing over," I mused, frowning.

"She didn't give you any more clues?"

"Nope. Just, 'look under the label when you get to your dorm room'."

"Hmm..." Ryou copied my thinking expression as he took the parking brake back off and started to back out of the lot. "I guess we'll have to find out then."

"And you won't tell anyone, right?" I asked anxiously. "Misa-san will also be in trouble if anyone finds out."

He gave me a withering look and poked me in the forehead. "Ba-ka. How dumb do you think I am?"

"Promise me," I urged.

He sighed. "I'll be as silent as the dead."

"That's not encouraging," I commented darkly.

He gave me a little smile as we drove back out into the night, a little faster than usual. I didn't blame him. I wanted to know what was under that label, too.

Something dangerous enough to get Len killed.

Author's Notes:

I'm really horrible at writing suspence. Really really horrible. I guess I just need practice.

Anyway, a couple of translations for ya:

Mattaku: Geez...

Baka: Idiot (I love this word. My favorite usage of it is Killua to Gon from HXH.)


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

"Now then," said Ryou, rubbing his hands with glee and bouncing slightly on the bed that had been Usa's, "let's find out what's up with this label."

Oi, I wanted to say, can't you be slightly more serious about this? He was treating the Guarneri like it was a bag of surprise candy. Len, at least, would have considered it more carefully. Well, he did, after all. Now I understood our last conversation.

_"I'm bringing my violin with me there."_

_"Why?"_

_"I'll tell you later."_

_"Sounds suspicious."_

_"It's not something I can tell you over the phone."_

Facepalm. I am becoming the queen of flashbacks. How on earth did this happen?

"You okay, Hino?" Ryou asked, noting the red mark on my forehead. "Why'd you suddenly hit yourself in the face?"

"No reason," I answered feebly. "I'm just suddenly very annoyed with myself."

"Uh huh. Anyway, open up!"

"Okay, okay. Sheesh." I opened the clasps on my violin case one by one, wincing slightly when the Guarneri greeted my eyes instead of Mahou. It's a little weird, seeing a different instrument in my case. I hoped Mahou would be okay. Len's old case wasn't exactly indestructible.

As I lifted it out of the red velvet, another tell-tale shiver ran up my spine. This is the violin that got Len killed, I realized.

I checked a sudden tear hastily so that Ryou wouldn't see.

"Here," he beckoned, leaning forward to take the instrument out of my hands. He held it up so that he could see through the F hole by the light on the ceiling.

"Be...be careful, okay?" I said anxiously. "It's very old."

"Yeah, I think I know," he answered, rolling his eyes. "I am a musician, you know."

Easy for you to say! This isn't a hulking piano!

"Wow," he whistled, looking at the label inside. "A real Guarneri. I didn't think I'd believe it if I didn't see the label. Here," as he handed it to me, "you've got a better light source than me."

I took it gingerly, marveling at the smoothness of the neck and body, the curious design of the pegs, and scooted over to the desk lamp, holding it up like Ryou had.

"Hey, grab me a pair of tweezers from my purse, okay?" I said. "I hope they'll be small enough to fish the label out..." I turned it more to the side and blew on it slightly.

The little piece of paper trembled under my breath, and then suddenly let loose from the wood and fluttered out.

Ryou got to it before me.

"I don't see anything weird about it," he said, frowning, flipping it over to view the backside. "Just 'Joseph Guarnerius secit Cremone anno 1735 IHS". I wonder if there's invisible ink, or something...what's wrong, Hino?"

I was still staring at the wood revealed where the label had been. Fury was gushing up in me.

"Oi, oi," Ryou said, closing my open mouth with his hand. "Something in the violin?"

"Those...those, IDIOTS!" I belted out, not being able to help myself. "Those jerks, those...those..."

My supply of deprecatory adjectives having escaped me, I handed the violin off to Ryou and crossed my arms, still fuming.

He hastily checked where I had looked. "My God," he said in an aweful whisper, "there's writing here."

"Can you believe it?" I continued in rage. "They WROTE in a violin. On a Guarneri, for crying out loud. Who would DO such a thing?"

Ryou tried to mask his face, constipated with laughter, and patted my head consolingly. "Now, now, I'm pretty certain they were very careful. Look how tiny this writing it. I can't quite make it out..."

"What language is it?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. "It looks like German..."

"I think it's Russian, actually," Ryou said, raising his eyebrows. "I don't get it, though, it looks like a list of five sets, four words and a number each."

"A treasure list?" I ventured, tugging on his arm to see. He shook his head.

"I don't think so. From what you told me, it seems like they were trying to destroy Tsukimori and the violin. Why would they want to destroy a list of treasure? Actually," he continued, "I've just had a thought."

"What?" I asked.

"If we could go back and see the surveillance camera from the accident, I wonder if we could find out who shoved Wasahara-san. Unless she was part of the plot, that is."

I shook my head vehemently. "There's no way Rumiko would have been part of this," I denied. But at the same time, a knot formed in my stomach.

I didn't want to see those tapes, even if they were still around. Unwilling to see the moment of Len's death.

Expertly reading my expression, Ryou set the violin carefully back in the case and, squatting on the floor in front of me, took both of my hands in his.

"I know what's going on in your head right now," he said softly, "but if it means finding out what really happened, isn't that more important?"

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. His hands were very warm, unlike Len's icy grip.

"Shouldn't we take the violin to the police?" I considered suddenly. "You know, I just want to get rid of this thing. Forget finding out who did it; we don't want either of us to end up dead, do we?"

Ryou's face instantly took on "Aw, you're spoiling the fun". Is he really this desperate for something to do, that he wants to play detective?

"Absolutely not," I answered his look firmly.

"Look," he hastened to break in before I could continue to expostulate on WHY it was a bad idea to go chasing after the people who were happy to off internationally known classical musicians, "Hamai-san said they wouldn't suspect you have the violin, right? And anyway, we don't have enough proof to show the police that something might be going on. If we go in now, I'll tell you what'll happen. They'll put us off for lack of evidence, or, in the best case scenario, they'll get around to investigating it someday when we're all old enough to not even care about it anymore."

"It's better than having the violin around here..."

"Maybe not. Consider what will happen if we bring in the violin and someone gets wind of it and tells them. First, they'll go after Hamai-san, then they'll come after us. They aren't the forgiving type, Kaho."

As I hesitated further, he squeezed my hands in his encouragingly.

"I don't want to see him die," I whispered at last, facing my inner terror honestly. "It's just...too much. Having him die once is enough. Not again."

"I'll tell you what," he said, standing back up and sitting again on Usa's bed. I'm pretty certain my old roommate would be absolutely furious if she knew. "I'll view the tapes. But it'll be easier if you come along, you know, as the, er, girlfriend of the deceased. It'll make more sense. Why don't we take the Shinkansen to Kyōto this weekend and find out if we can view them in person?"

I sighed deeply and shut the case, blotting out the light from the accusatory Guarneri.

Kyōto, huh? I'd hoped I'd never have to return there.

It's time to face my fears yet again.

.

Okay, let me set the record straight:

Finagling the Kyōto security guard people into showing you a six-month-old security camera tape of a person getting hit by a train...is...NOT...an easy thing. Just in case you, whimsical Reader, decide to get the urge.

Oh ho, I am so not kidding.

So I'll spare you the details. Just that I'm fortunate that I had Ryou with me, to explain and haggle and figure out where to go, and threaten and cajole while I stood there with a more-or-less clueless look on my face and served as the "we're doing it for the pretty girl over there" role.

Thus we spent literally all weekend being ushered from one authority to another, until at last we found ourselves in the Kyōto Station "library" which consisted of a room full of computer screens and shelves of DVD recordings which looked like they hadn't been touched in ages.

"Though I don't know why you're interested in seeing this particular accident," commented the bespeckled attendee, searching for it on the main computer database. "In a way, it's lucky for you that we store these incidences permanently. You think something fishy was going on, eh?" He gave us a sly look, as the monitor in front of him popped up a window with the familiar scene of the subway platform.

Ryou instantly stiffened, and I could read his posture easily: Let's not let anyone know what we think is going on, okay?

I rose to the occasion as best I could. "It's...see, the victim was my boyfriend..."

The guy's face automatically waxed sympathetic. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," he said somewhat awkwardly.

"I just wanted to see what happened," I went on.

"After all this time?" he asked skeptically.

"It's like...I kind of want to...feel some sense of closure," I answered hastily, my face heating. "You know, like I won't be able to move on with anyone else until..."

How much was truth and how much was excuse? I wondered to myself, sneaking a glance at Ryou, who was suddenly finding the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt extremely fascinating. Something in his expression alerted me that he was half-allowing, half-fighting the hope that I was being serious.

The guy at the screen swiveled around in his chair to give Ryou a knowing look and then nodded. "Okay, but I'll warn you ahead of time, this isn't pretty. I'll warn you ahead of time in case you don't want to look."

I shivered and nodded silently. I didn't have much choice now. At least I could look away before it actually happened.

"Okay." The guy hit the play button and inched forward so that his nose was less than a foot away. The many screens glittered in his glasses like nasty fireflies. "Now, this starts about one minute before the train actually leaves. Here he comes," he pointed to the far left of the screen, "down the steps, looks like he's in a hurry. Also talking on his cell."

"To me," I said softly, remembering the sound of his slightly heavy breathing as he tried to get down to the train on time. The screen was slightly blurred and the movement of the frames was slightly clipped, but I could clearly make out Len's blue hair and the violin he was carrying, though his back was to the screen as he forced his way to the front of the line.

I felt a little disappointed, somehow, I guess. The memories of his face were already flickering like the screens, and we hadn't taken any pictures together. Greedily, I wanted every glimpse of him I could get.

Ryou was also leaning toward the screen and squinting. "It's kind of hard to make out. I mean the hair, not to mention the 'Orei-sama' attitude, is a dead giveaway, but Kaho said the body was unrecognizable, right?" I nodded glumly. "Are you positive it was him?"

The attendee turned to give him a "OMG aren't you stupid" look. "Of course. The body still had his ID on him, after all. Plus there's violin. That's not the sort of thing you can make up, right?"

Ryou looked satisfied, so I elbowed him in the gut. "Ow, what was that for?" he whined.

"Are you still afraid he'll somehow magically show up?" I said, cocking an eyebrow. "Paranoid, much?"

"Hush. The train is pulling in," the guy said, attention fixed on the screen as though fascinated. "Okay, look away in 3...2...1..."

I winced and turned my head away quickly, but not before scrutinizing the person behind Rumiko carefully.

"I'm going to stop the clip now." The guy clicked the mouse a couple of times and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the two of us. "Is that okay? Or did you want to see it again?"

"No, it's enough," Ryou, who had not turned away, said thickly and a little greenly. "We're done here."

I wanted to say, "Thanks for your time," but words were useless for me.

"You okay?" Ryou asked gently, patting my shoulder.

Somehow I found the strength to nod before he took my hand to lead me out of there.

.

"Kaho, you don't look so good."

I looked up from my seat at Ryou, who was putting our day-trip luggage in the compartment above our seats on the shinkansen train. He settled down next to me and waited patiently.

"So it's really true," I murmured, shifting my gaze to the back of the seat in front of me. "It really was..."

"Murder," he answered me lowly, keenly aware of anyone who might be listening around us. "Yeah, it looks like it. There's no doubt that was Tsukimori, either. I caught a glimpse of his face just when he went over the edge."

I closed my eyes as the hopeful doubt I'd had earlier was squashed flat like a pancake. Literally.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, making a movement as though he wanted to touch me in sympathy, but couldn't bring himself to. "I'm sorry, Kaho. Um...this may sound insensitive but...do you feel any sense of closure?"

"I just feel numb all over, " I mumbled, drawing my knees up to hug them to my chest (and grateful I was wearing shorts).

"I see."

I let my forehead drop onto my knees as I replayed the scene over in my head.

"_3..."_

He was there, standing at the edge impatiently, just like the guy at the screen had told us. Anxiously, keeping looking down at the violin case in his hands as though afraid it would evaporate. In a couple more moments he would be safe on the train. Was he being followed? He cast a furtive glance behind him, to the right, to the left.

Then the tall foreigner in black, just behind Rumiko, pushed her forward roughly.

"_...2..."_

It wasn't a mistake, though he had planned it carefully to look like it was. But it was clearly obvious. The line hadn't shifted forward. In fact, he'd been standing there on purpose behind Rumiko, shifting his angle as she did, watching her bend forward, and then...

Rumiko had stumbled forward, just like she'd said, grabbing wildly at Len's violin case.

"_...1..._"

I didn't have to see it on the screen to see it in my mind.

"Kaho...!"

My lungs felt like they were filling with vomit.

"It's okay...take it easy...here you go..."

A paper bag appeared at my elbow, and I sat back uneasily, trying to force the feeling down. A concerned looking stewardess handed Ryou a freshly steamed towel, and he used it to gently dab my face, which suddenly felt very clammy.

"Sorry." I felt humiliated. Feeling so sick about the moment, even though I hadn't even seen it. "I'm fine, it's just..." I shook my head, lost for an excuse.

"It's been a long day," Ryou told the stewardess, who dismissed herself. "Ne, Kaho, are you sure you're okay?"

I stared with closed eyes out the train window.

I wished Len had never even set eyes on that Guarneri, now lurking under a pile of my underwear back on campus.

And we still didn't even know why it was worth killing over. Or who had done it.

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the delay! My baby arrived at 2:00 on Tuesday and has been keeping me busy ever since. I still need to name her. Any suggestions? She's 5' 7" long and weighs 500 pounds. 1948 Baldwin baby grand. *squee!*

EDIT: By "baby", I do mean PIANO. BABY GRAND PIANO. Not an actual baby. Seriously. That would be bad.

For some reason it feels like the better I get at Japanese, the less I want to write it into the story. For those of you who like the Japanese words, warui, ne? For those of you who never did like them, go ahead and do a little dance for joy. And also, sorry about the weird scene break notes. Apparently when my document comes over into the word processor, it coldly ignore my neat little paragraph breaks altogether. Bleh.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

"Ugh...what a trip! Gosh I'm tired, now." Ryou dropped our day-trip bags on the floor of my room and collapsed onto Usa's bed, rubbing his face and groaning.

"I'm ordering pizza," I decided, picking up my cell.

"Good idea, I'm starving."

Ha. I've got him now.

Two hours later, night had set in and Ryou was still lying down with a silly grin on his face, remnants of fake cheese and silvery anchovies decorating the insides of two cardboard boxes discarded on the side. "Pizza..."

My plot, incorporating the somniforic effects of warm pizza, had succeeded.

"It's getting late," I mentioned, "it's already almost eleven."

"Mmhm."

"You alive?"

"Barely."

Okay, time to ask.

"Ryou...um..." I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Would you mind staying with me tonight?" I managed weakly, looking away.

His eyebrows rose as high as they could without actually receding into his hairline, and he sat up instantly. "Eh?" his voice slipped into falsetto so squeaky it would put the cleanest window-pane to shame.

"I mean...like a teddy bear," I clarified, my face going scarlet as I realized what he'd been thinking. "Honestly, I'm a little scared to be by myself with the violin and all..."

He cleared the elementary kid out of his throat and deepened his voice even more for good measure. "I don't know if that's really appropriate, Hino."

I sighed and pulled out the laundry line I kept for hanging up clothing in the five or so micro millimeters available between my heaps of clothes and what had been Usa's clutter of random books and manuscript paper. "Look, I'll do it this way," I demonstrated, tying the twine in a line between my side and Usa's. Then I hung a spare sheet up on it. "Happy?"

"No." His voice came muffled from the other side. "I'd prefer a brick wall, please."

I had a sudden inspiration as I recalled the night last December in Italy, when I'd locked myself out of my hotel room and stayed with Len. I remembered how reluctant he was then, too. A more naive Kahoko would have been oblivious. Well...that's in the past now, isn't it? So I have a pretty good idea why Ryou is, at this very minute, attempting to sneak out of the room without me noticing.

Nice try, Ryou, but I think I'll die of fright unless you stay over tonight.

I flew over and tackled him. Or tried to, thereof. There isn't much a skinny girl can do against a tall, athletic guy in that regard.

Having managed to slide down the length of his back and landing on my stomach on the floor, I discarded dignity altogether and instead grabbed onto his shins.

"Oi, cut it out." Ryou tried to pry my arms away, but I called upon the kami of crawfish and stubbornly hung on for dear life. He thus attempted to loosen my grip by stepping out and ended up on the floor beside me.

"Fine, I give," he grunted, as I took advantage of his vulnerable position and planted myself on top of his chest. "I'll stay tonight, but only tonight, okay? God, my sister's going to torment the life out of me. She's always telling me to 'grow up'." Mesh. Off, you."

I let him up cheerfully and began humming as I rummaged around in my wardrobe for my pajamas.

"Pay attention. Rules." I looked up in surprise as Ryou took off his jacket and sat down on the bed seriously. "Number 1: Thou shalt not cross over to my side of the room. Number 2: Thou shalt not tempt me over to your side of the room. Number 3: If I start talking in my sleep, thou shalt assume it is a figment of your imagination and absolutely shall NOT repeat it or record it by any means. Got it?"

"Geez, you're such a samurai," I mumbled, plucking the lucky raiment of duckling-patterned sleepwear from a drawer and tossing them onto the bed. "It's not like anything's going to happen between the two of us right now anyway, you know. It's the last thing on my mind, after all. You're such a guy, gosh..."

His face was hidden by the sheet, but I distinctly noticed his feet starting to fidget in embarrassment. "...!...?...!..." he told me.

"The bathroom's down the hall," I informed him. "Are you going to be okay sleeping in your T-shirt? Are you going to need to run home tomorrow for a change of clothes? Do you need a toothbrush? I think I've got an extra one around here somewhere...Oh! You don't wear contacts, do you? I don't have any supplies for that, sorry..."

"Aren't these questions you should have thought of BEFORE inducing me to stay over?" he asked in annoyance, spreading the blanket I'd given him over the bed. "I'll be fine, don't worry. I have my day bag from Kyoto. Do you have an extra pillow?"

I tossed over a couple and started to dress into my pajamas. A strangled sort of cry came from Ryou's side.

"What the...why the hell are these...so...pink? And...feathery? Do I have a second option?"

"No," I told the white cotton wall between us firmly. "What time should I set the alarm?"

"Six."

… "Fine. But I won't like it."

"You don't have to get up."

"Can't help it. If I wake up before I mean to, I can't get back to sleep properly."

"That's your problem."

"Jerk."

*sigh* "Right, I'm getting to sleep. I'm dog-tired. That doesn't make much sense, does it? All dogs do all day long is lie around. Good night, Hino."

"Night, Ryou."

.

"TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!"

I woke to pitch darkness and Ryou's roaring voice on the other side of the sheet. At first I wondered if this was what he'd meant by talking in his sleep. Then I heard my cell phone ringing on the desk.

"Ahhh...sorry...'Ave Maria' always makes me sad, so I switched my ring tone to Madonna," I told him sheepishly, reaching for it to answer. Who would be calling at...seems like...2:18 in the morning?

"Madonna is one thing," he said, switching on the light. "'Material Girl' is another entirely. Who is it?"

"Moshi moshi?" I answered into the phone.

"Kahoko. Get out. Now."

It took a couple of seconds for Misa-san's voice to sink in. "Wha..." I started, but she cut in.

"They're coming. They know you have the violin. Get out of the country. Call your friend, drive to Narita, take a plane out as soon as you can. I'll cover the cost."

"Misa-san, are you okay?" I asked, suddenly very worried.

"Get going now!"

"No! I want to know you're okay!" I could hear Ryou already getting dressed on the other side. I didn't want to think about what 'they' might have done to her, if they knew she'd passed on the violin.

"I'm fine," she answered hurriedly. "I'll explain more once you're on your way. Call me as soon as you're in the car. Hurry!"

She hung up immediately, leaving me sitting up in bed in shock. Ryou shoved the makeshift curtain out of the way. "Come on," he said, plucking me out of bed, "I heard enough. Throw this on." He shoved a loose green pull-over dress he'd found at me, and switched places with me, pulling the sheet back across. "Where's the violin?"

"Third drawer from the right," I answered, pulling off my pajamas to slip into the dress, and exchanging an amused look with myself as I heard him open the drawer and grunt in surprise. "Best place to hide it," I said matter-of-factly, reemerging to his rigid expression as he gingerly picked through my undergarments to get at the violin case.

"I believe it," he muttered. "No guy in his right mind would go searching through here...unless he was a dirty old man, in which case he wouldn't even notice the violin. Do you have a passport?"

"It's in the violin case. You?"

"I brought one with me to Kyoto. It's in my bag."

I yanked on a pair of sneakers and grabbed my purse and cell phone. "Let's go."

The streetlamps ironed the cracks in the deserted pavement, casting an even glow on the car as we took back roads to get out to Narita Airport, passing through the tiny roads that wound their way through various neighborhoods. The gated entryways of houses framed dark gridded shadows on the sidewalks, the arms of trees stretching out across the stone fences. All the shops had closed their ridged metal doors tight, a single convenience store glaring its bright light in its solitary early morning availability.

"Okay, go ahead and call her," Ryou told me, anxiously peering into the rear view mirror to make sure we weren't being followed. "Make sure she's okay," he added.

"I will," I promised. Frankly, as bleared as I felt at this time of morning, and as shocked as I was to have this happening so suddenly, the one thought in my mind was whether or not she was okay.

I dialed her number and held my breath.

She answered instantly. "Kahoko. Are you guys out? Are you okay? They haven't found you yet, have they?"

"No," I answered with a shiver. "I don't think so. We're on our way to the airport now. Why do we have to leave the country?"

(Author's Note: Because it's cooler for the story, dummy.)

"I'm hoping to throw them off your trail. Besides, they have diplomatic immunity in this country, if I'm right. The sudden change may slow them down for a bit. Do you have someone out of the country you can stay with? In the States, maybe?"

I thought of Hihara and shivered. Even though we'd managed to make up, I still felt very awkward about him.

Then I remembered. "No, but I have another friend elsewhere. Misa-san, are you really okay? What happened?"

She sighed tiredly. "It happened just before I called you. I went out for a couple of hours to a rehearsal with a few friends, since I felt better that the violin wasn't in the house anymore, and because I was starting to get restless in the house all the time. I should have known better. We went out for drinks afterwards, and I ended up talking to one of my friends for a long time afterwards. By the time I got back, I went to check on the music room. The window had been smashed; they'd searched the entire room, and somehow they found that hidden cabinet. Oh, Kahoko...when they found out we'd switched violins they..." She broke off suddenly.

A chill ran cold down my spine. "...They...?" I whispered fearfully.

"I'm so sorry, Kahoko, they took your violin and they...they threw it against the side of my piano. The neck was snapped off completely...who knows how much damage the body sustained...I don't know if it can be repaired or not. I'm terribly sorry..."

"It's not your fault," I interjected automatically, though deep down, I did want to blame her for it. My violin was my partner. I'd entrusted it with her, and as a result it was destroyed.

My heart felt wounded, crushed even.

Ryou reached over and put his hand gently on my knee consolingly.

"Ask her what time she thinks they broke in," he told me quietly.

"What time did they..."

"Around midnight. One of the neighbors phoned me when I got back, worried. She says there were four or five of them, all in black, and they smashed the window with sledgehammers and were in and out in less than fifteen minutes. Not very subtle of them."

"Misa-san, you should leave the country, too," I told her firmly. "Who knows what they might have done to you if you'd been there when you'd broken in?"

"I'm in a taxi now. I'll be at Narita hopefully at the same time you are."

I took a sigh of relief. "Will you be staying with your husband?"

"Yes."

"Can we stay with you, too?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea, actually," she said regretfully. "If anything, we should split up. You two can hide out easier without me. I'm a bit like a walking billboard."

I allowed a terse smile. "True." Rule number one of being inconspicuous is to not hang out with internationally know musicians.

"In any case, as tempting as it may be, I would recommend not going to the police, even overseas. Without any evidence that the violin is linked to Len's murder, all you'll be doing is casting suspicion and a spotlight on yourselves."

"Unless the circumstances change," Ryou mentioned off-handedly.

"Let's hope they don't," I shot back at him. "I don't want you dead, too."

"Kahoko? Are you still there?"

"Yeah. So we'll see you at Nari..."

"Hino. We've got company."

I looked up as Ryou suddenly stepped on the gas, tearing through an obvious red light. Looking back, I saw that the dark van using low headlights behind us had done the same.

Ryou's face was impassive as he changed lanes twice, peeling off into a narrow alleyway and winding his way through several neighborhoods until he found another main road, but his knuckles gleamed white on the steering wheel.

"Kahoko. I'm going to leave you know. I'll see you at the airport. I will. I'm sure of it. Your friend Tsuchiura-san is driving, right?"

"Yes." My voice sounded like it was coming from miles away. I suspected my lips were the same color as Ryou's knuckles.

"I know I can trust you with him. He's a good guy."

"I know."

Ryou's face betrayed a saucy little flush of triumph, even as he continued to carefully increase his speed through the long spaces of highway that cut through the hills of the green area surrounding Narita.

"I'll see you soon."

"Bye."

I snapped my cell shut, just as Ryou took a sudden tight U turn that flung me against the wall of his car, sending my phone skidding across the floor and under the seat. The sound of his tires squealing on the pavement gave me goosebumps "Are you okay?" he asked briefly, as we passed the car heading in the other direction and attempting to make a sudden stop. There were two men in the front, both cloaked in darkness, their features completely hidden.

"Yeah...Why'd you do that?"

"I took a false turn just to throw them off. We'll be back on track in just a minute." His eyes flickered to the rear view mirror, and I could see that our pursuers were being forced to take an awkward four-point turn in their bulky van. He'd bought us a few crucial minutes.

"We're almost there. Hang on. Chikusho!"

A loud bang emitted on the driver's side of the car, and I gasped in shock.

"They're trying to blow out our tires," Ryou explained, "but we'll be out of firing distance soon. Just need to evade them for now..."

He turned the wheel quickly, and the Toyoto made a graceful snake-like arc across the pavement as our pursuers fired more rounds from the van, still making the turn.

A minute later, Ryou sighed in relief. "Okay, we should be okay now. There's the airport."

The lights of the terminal ahead glimmered through the trees like friendly eyes winking. "Will we even be able to get a flight at this time of the morning?" I asked. "Can we even get in?" I didn't like the thought of hanging out in the parking lot with that van.

"I'm sure Misa-san knows that we will," Ryou said confidently. "We'll park in the lot and get inside as quickly as possible. Good thing we don't have baggage to check..."

.

He was right. There were very few people inside the terminal, but at least there were a couple of flights heading out at this time. I looked around dizzily at the wide expanse and various booths in the European flights section, each containing its own paper mâché smiling attendants waiting patiently.

"Kahoko! Thank God!" I turned to see Misa-san hurrying in our direction, somehow looking immaculate even at 3:00 in the morning. "Did you lose them?"

"No," Ryou answered for us both, "just bought a little time. If we buy tickets quickly and get through security and customs, we may be able to lose them entirely. I don't think they'll have a fun time getting through if they have guns or concealed weapons."

"They'll be smart enough to get rid of them."

"At the very least they look suspicious enough that security will give them a hard time."

"We should probably buy tickets now," I cut in. "Where are you going, Misa-san?"

"Prague. That's where my husband is now. Where are you going?"

"I'll get in line for security and customs," Ryou said. "You buy tickets and meet me there."

"Okay."

It took only a few minutes for Misa-san to purchase the tickets for us. I'm glad she was paying for them. They would have covered half a semester's tuition for Ryou and me.

"Hurry." Ryou ushered the two of us through the metal detectors, just as five men in black burst through the doors, yanking off ski masks as they did so. Looking around, one of them pointed in our direction and shouted something in what Ryou had probably correctly identified as Russian. Instinctively, I hid my violin case behind my back.

"Let's go," I said, tugging at his arm, but to my surprise he only stood there with a smirk on his face. Misa-san also turned back.

A couple of very polite but wary security guards met them ahead of us. "Sirs, you're going to have to purchase tickets." The men's expressions registered bewilderment, and I noted with satisfaction that they didn't understand Japanese, and it probably wouldn't have helped them if they had.

"Sirs, I'm going to have to ask you to accompany us," one of the guards said, politely but firmly. Several other guards from other parts of the room made their way in that direction.

"Now let's go," said Ryou, "I don't think they'll be passing here any time soon."

"Was it okay for them to see our faces?" I asked worriedly as we turned and headed up the escalators.

"They know you two by heart anyway," Ryou said, shrugging. "What's more important is that now we know what they look like."

Pretty much like any Russians I've ever seen...

"My departure is this way," Misa-san said as we reached the top. "We're cutting it close to our flight times, but that's in our favor anyway."

I reached over and grabbed her into a bear-hug. "Be careful," I mumbled into her shoulder. Her arms, grasping me as tightly as mine were her, shook slightly.

"You'll need it even more than I do," she murmured back. "Good luck. I'm sorry about everything."

"It's the least I can do for Len," I whispered in her ear, and she nodded before squeezing me even tighter and then letting go.

"Take care of her, Tsuchiura-san." He nodded numbly, and then she turned and hurried out.

"What flight are we taking?" he asked, looking up at the bright blue set of departure screens. "Los Angeles?"

I felt a sudden rush of vindictive glee. Sorry, Ryou, you're going to hate me for this. Consider this revenge for not explaining about parallel octaves.

"London," I announced.

Author's Notes:

Hi all! Thanks for reading! Somehow this story isn't going as well as TSBTN...hmm...

Jiyu22, thanks for reviewing, I appreciate it a lot in these awkward stages of this story!

But just to clarify...by "baby" I do mean PIANO. I have a BABY GRAND PIANO. Not an actual baby. Oh lord, what a mess that would be...lol!


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

"And to what do I owe this early and extremely unexpected surprise?" Usa's left eyebrow was twitching overtime.

"Ohisashiburi desu ne, Usa," I offered with a weak smile, as Ryou, suddenly grumpy, shouldered his way past her in the doorway, and deposited our meager bags on the floor of Usa's tiny room, crowded with an upright piano and various books, on and off the shelves, but little else except a small bed, likewise buried under books.

She sighed and closed the door behind us, stepping carefully through the piles over to her sink and single portable electric burner, upon which she set a kettle, and rummaged through her cupboards for tea. "How did you find me, anyway?"

I held up the envelope from the book of quotations she'd sent me in January with a smirk. "Knew it would come in handy some time. Not that navigating London when you don't speak English is a piece of cake." I shot a grateful look over at Ryou, who had somehow miraculously navigated us here. Ryou...he's so smart and capable.

"Couldn't you have called me ahead of time at least?" she whined, adding tea bags to mugs.

"I left my cell phone in the back seat of Ryou's car," I answered.

"And exactly what were you doing in the back seat of his car?" she insinuated slyly.

"I wasn't back there!" I answered indignantly. "It's because we were being chased by bad guys with guns and..."

"Uh huh."

I let out my breath in a surly huff. "Forget it. I'll explain later."

Something seemed extremely off about her, even though her demeanor and physical situation seemed the same. For one, it seemed she had picked up an obnoxious English accent and inserted it into her Japanese.

"Seems England has been good for your fashion sense," Ryou noted, picking his way over to the piano. "May I?"

At her nod, he sat upon the bench, and I took a seat on the bed. Ah, so that was what was wrong. Usa had dropped ten or fifteen pounds, sported fashionable layers in her waist-length fine brown hair, and was, of all things, wearing black dress slacks and a svelte, scarlet turtleneck and wide belt.

"It's a guy," she informed him with a tone of disinterest. "He's decided to take over and make over my entire appearance. Apparently he regards me as his personal doll. Sometimes I want to kill him."

"A guy, huh?" Ryou's eyes crinkled mischievously. "I really want to meet this guy now and ask him what on earth he's doing dating you."

"We're not dating," she scoffed. "Jacques is completely gay."

Ryou looked vastly disappointed. "Oh well, at least he's a good influence on you."

She rolled her eyes at Ryou and shot at me, "You still haven't answered my previous question."

"Ah ha." I held up my violin. Ryou hastily got up and shut all the windows. Why didn't I think of that earlier?

The perplexion of Usa's complexion deepened as the room went dark, the early breaking dawn disappearing from the windows. She leaned over the Leaning Tower of Pizza Boxes and switched on a light bulb, sans shade. "Okay, what have you done now?"

"It's a secret," I said unsteadily, opening the case. "This."

Her eyes widened as she moved quickly to sit on the bed next to me and look over at the violin. "Is that a...Strad...no, it's not, is it?"

"It's a Guarneri," I said with a little shiver. "_His_ Guarneri. The reason _he_died."

The tea kettle chose that opportune moment to begin shrieking at us like a spoiled two-year-old denied ice-cream.

"Hang on a sec," she said, hurrying over to it and pouring the steaming water into mismatching mugs.

"Thanks," I said as she offered one to me. Ryou eyed his suspiciously and took a sip.

"Dear God, what is this stuff?" he asked, grimacing. "Don't you have any decent tea?"

"Blame the British, not me," she answered crisply. "Now what's so special about this violin? Other than the fact that it's like, one of the most valuable instruments on the face of the earth."

"Um..." Ryou and I looked at each other, lost for words. "That's the thing," I elucidated. "We don't exactly..._know_..."

"Terrific." She gave us a skeptical look.

"Here, have a look," Ryou said, taking the Guarneri and passing it to her. She gingerly sat next to him on the bench and examined it. "Inside the F hole," he added, pointing.

She held it up and her eyes widened as she saw the writing inside. (I had prudently placed the label in a tiny plastic bag and stashed it inside the case.) "Holy shit. Don't tell Jacques I said that, he'll kill me. Hang on a minute, I have a magnifying glass around here somewhere..." She passed it back to Ryou and went rummaging around under her bed.

"Um...Usa? Is that like, your catch-all for every strange thing you've ever collected?" I asked, as she began scooping out various articles, including sketches of people, miscellaneous rabbit paraphernalia, broken headsets, and several darts.

"You don't even have a dart board," Ryou noted, looking around.

"I might someday. Aha! Found it!" She emerged, bearing dust bunnies on her nice sweater, and brandished her trophy.

"Excellent." Ryou's eyes gleamed as he took it from her. He held it up to his eye and peered at us. "Do I look like Sherlock Holmes?"

"Um, you aren't even British," Usa pointed out, while I asked, "Who's Sherlock Holmes?"

"Okay. Got a pencil and notepad?" he asked, peering inside. Usa produced said articles, and he traced the letters as carefully as he could.

"Let me look." Usa grabbed the magnifying glass and peered at the violin. "You've got it all wrong. This should be a И, and I know this is a Ю..."

He grabbed it back from her. "No, I'm pretty sure it's a К and Б..."

She snorted. "Yeah, and soon you'll be telling me you can read Cyrillic fluently...You know, the funny thing is, all five of these lines look like different handwriting. Why would five different people write in the violin?"

"Beats me. You have any ideas?"

"Um, maybe I could help?" I offered, eyeing the Guarneri warily and ready to make a plunge for the floor if they managed to drop it amidst their squabbling.

They gave me an identical look of, "Yeah, I don't think so."

"In any case, we might have enough here to take a look online," Usa said, abandoning the violin, glass and Ryou, and reaching on top of the piano to unearth her laptop from under a score of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony and collection of Ravel's "Miroirs".

I left my post on the bed to come kneel next to her. "Exactly how are you going to do that?"

"Wikipedia."

"How could I guess."

"Okay. You" (at Ryou) "dictate to me the letters as best as you can. I'll give you the Romanized phonetic version, and then we can look the words up in Babelfish."

Seriously? This is your answer to our mystery?

"You have a better idea?" she shot at me.

"I didn't say anything," I complained.

"You looked it," she said sourly. "Ready?"

.

After about 45 minutes of dictating, scrolling up and down on the page, fighting over what letters were what, gloating at success and sulking at victory...and me, still on the floor...we managed to come up with a list.

Илларион Дучовный Богдан Фэдюшhйна 3 14

Сергей Мушаылов Григорий Туманова 5 27

Сергей Свэтланов Дмитрий Носова 6 6

Евгений Ныколаэвскй Игорь Овчынныков 8 12

Марк Андропов Павел Фылыпов 9 11

I won't bother you with the Romanized version. It made just as much sense as the Cyrillic version to me.

"Numbers aside," Ryou said, "none of these words make any sense. Even when they're filtered through Babelfish, they just come out at the same in English."

"Frankly I'm impressed you can read English at all," Usa said to him sarcastically. "It might just be that Babelfish is completely incompetent. You should have seen the stuff I came up with when I tried to input Japanese."

"Actually, now that I think of it," Ryou put in slowly, "A couple of these words look familiar. Igor..."

"Like Igor Stravinsky," Usa said, catching on.

He nodded. "And Evgeny..."

"Like Evgeny Kissin! Only...the second words in each pair aren't the same, but..."

"Right. They're names. I wonder if we can find out who these people were?"

She typed the words into her computer so feverishly I thought the keys might fly off. "Excited much?" I mumbled. "Care to recall how deadly this information is in the first place?" How Len figured it out so quickly was a mystery to me, when both Usa and Ryou took the last...let's see...hour and a half to figure it out between the two of them...No, actually it's not a mystery, really. It's only taking them this long because they stop every two minutes to bicker.

"Hey, we're on to something here," Ryou said comfortingly, ruffling the top of my hair. "Isn't that good?"

"I guess..."

"Found the first two words," Usa said. "Hm...this guy 'Илларион Дучовный', looks like he was a politician in the Soviet Union from 1958-1960...didn't end his term, though...ouch."

"What?" Ryou peered over her shoulder at the tiny screen in her lap. "Wow, shot in the head, huh? That's no fun..."

"Yeah, and they never caught the guy who did it. Seems it was during a rally, and there were too many people there. I can't find this second name at all, though...hmm."

"Try the next row."

"Gotcha. 'Сергей Мушаылов', same deal. Influential leader, died in...1960. Poisoning, looks like."

Ryou looked down suddenly at the paper in his hands. "What date exactly?" he asked hurriedly.

"May 27."

"And the first guy?"

"Seems like...March 14."

"Oooh..." Ryou's face suddenly got a very serious look. "You know what this is?"

"How would I know? I'm still trying to figure that out. So the numbers are dates, then? All 1960, I guess? Not a good year to be a Soviet Union politician..."

"So you know what this is," he persisted.

She sighed and gave him an irritated look. "No, I don't know what it is."

He shook his head gravely. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you..."

"Tell me before I give you the same demise as these politicians...Oh."

He nodded. "It's a hit list."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"Jeez."

"Uh huh."

"Would either of you mind filling me in?" I protested.

"Basically, Hino, this violin here has an interesting little history," Ryou told me matter-of-factly. "From my guess, there was a secret organization going on that had it in for certain USSR politicians. Any links?" he shot at Usa, who was furiously linking on Wikipedia.

"Go on, I'll have it in a minute," she told him.

"Given the stringency of the times," he continued, "communication about this sort of thing would have been next to impossible. The consequences of getting caught would be really not pretty. So they used this."

"The violin..." I murmured, thinking about how insane it would have been to try to write all those tiny letters in the F hole, before hiding the writing under the label. "So they passed it on from person to person, giving the next hit name and date of opportunity..."

"Exactly. Maybe it's even like a trophy, a record to be proud of."

"Why wouldn't the Academy have found it? What does it have to do with Len's death?"

"I can't really answer the first question," Ryou said, frowning. "Maybe they did find it, and didn't want to make a fuss. Seeing what happened to Tsukimori, I can't say I'd blame them. It's likely that whoever did know had been watching Tsukimori ever since he got the violin. Once they knew he'd found out..."

I shivered, though the morning was progressing and Usa's room seemed independent of air conditioning. "So that means..."

"At least one of the people in the second set of words in the list is still alive. And doesn't want to be revealed as an assassin."

"Yeah, and I found one of them," Usa put in. "Игорь Овчынныков is still very much alive...and currently an active part of the political scene in Russia today."

"So he's got people after us."

"Probably."

I sighed. "Just what I always wanted. To be the target of a seasoned assassin..."

Usa and Ryou automatically reached out to touch my shoulders. "Hey, don't worry about it," Usa said softly. "You're with me, you'll be safe..."

"That's my line," Ryou pointed out.

"Might I point out that you're also on the 'list'?"

"What makes you so sure we're safe with you, eh?"

"Do they know you're in London?" she asked. He frowned, thinking.

"Probably not...although they definitely know we're in Europe somewhere," he mused. "If they narrowed down the list of flights taking off at that time in the morning..."

"It'll still take them some time to track you down. And for now," she brightened, "you might as well see some of the city while you can. Lunch?"

"Only if we can find Japanese food," I said, half-joking.

"Seriously," Ryou said seriously. "I've heard British food is the worst."

Usa snickered. "Japanese food it is, then."

.

"What...is...this?"

"Japanese food."

"No, it's not."

"Here, it is."

I stabbed weakly at the sad little heap of what was pretending to be yakitori on my plate. A tasteless dab of green on the side was masquerading as wasabi.

"I take it back," Ryou said. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Next time we're going for fish and chips."

"Rome..." I murmured, thinking back to the cheesy pasta Len had ordered for me.

Ryou noted the upcoming rainstorm and made to gather me into his arms. Usa beat him to the punch, though.

She took the opportunity to stick her chopsticks under her upper lip, letting them dangle on either side of her mouth, reaching past her chin.

"Look, I'm a walrus," she mumbled around them, trying not to laugh at herself.

I sighed, wearily rubbing my temples, gloom forgotten. "For pity's sake, Usa, that's gross. Not to mention ridiculous. Here you have your gay friend dressing you up and attempting to convert you to civilization, and look at you now. Ryou, you tell her...oh, gosh..."

During my lecture, Ryou had been busily stuffing udon noodles in his mouth, and now he looked up mischievously, letting them droop over his chin, dripping oily sesame sauce on the table below. "Look, I'm a cuttlefish."

Usa snorted with laughter as her chopsticks fell from her mouth and clattered on the cement floor.

Dear kami, what have I done to deserve this? I repent right now. I won't do it again, I swear.

_Sorry Ryou. Consider this as revenge for not explaining about parallel octaves._

Oh. That. Karma, huh?

Dear Buddha, I repent of...

"Ew! You're getting your elbow in the oil!" Usa, wrinkling her nose in distaste, reached over the table to begin wiping at Ryou's arm with a paper napkin.

"Oi, I'll do it. What are you, OCD or something?" Ryou yanked the napkin out of her hands so that it ripped raggedly and jerked away from her.

"It's because it's GROSS. I can't stand seeing other people having food on them. It weirds me out," she answered disdainfully.

He snorted. "Somehow you manage to live in that tornado aftermath of a room you have, and a bit of oil grosses you out?"

"I don't want to hear that from you, you..."

Exactly how do they go so quickly from making stupid jokes to hurling insults at each other? Being around them is like being bipolar. Why, oh why did I choose London...

I shook my head in mock dismay.

"Mission accomplished," I heard Ryou whisper to Usa, with a wink.

Admittedly, not every girl has two devoted friends who are willing to cheer her up. I should count my blessings.

And pray not to get killed while we're trying to figure out this situation.

Author's Notes:

Okay, this should be obvious, but I'm going to say it anyway. This is fiction. None of the names above are real. The assassinations did not actually happen. This wasn't an actual organization. I literally just created a bunch of Russian names at random. So, yeah. There you go.

Usa was a popular OC from The Silence Between the Notes, and so I've decided to revive her for this story. I like her, anyway.

Apparently the La Corda D'Oro page isn't uploading my chapters or something...so if you're reading this now, I assume you got through some other way. In any case, please review! Pretty please?

Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

After lunch, Usa promptly deposited the two of us on the "Tube" with Oyster cards, and sent us off to see the Tower of London.

"I have to practice," she explained as we walked into the busy fray that was the London Underground station.

"Can't you come along with us?" I asked, disappointed. "We haven't seen you in ages. Besides, you can take a day off, right? You don't have classes today, right?"

"That is beside the point," she answered crisply. "The neverending circle that is piano practice must whirl on. You must be aching for it too, right?"

"True," Ryou said thoughtfully. "Mind if I have a go when we get back?"

I rubbed the tips of my left hand fingers and was surprised that in even in the last few days of hectic activity, the callouses were starting to wear smooth. "Ne, can we practice together?" I asked.

"Sure," they answered simultaneously.

"Not at the same time," I covered up a slight grin. "Unless you want to try."

"Pass," again simultaneously.

The two of them immediately proceeded to burn imaginary holes through each other's foreheads with acidic glares.

"Okay. You've got the map I gave you?" Usa, dismissing him loftily, asked. Ryou nodded. "If you could find your way to my apartment from Heathrow airport, getting back from the Tower should be a piece of cake. Oh, and if you feel like it, I would recommend looking out over the Thames from the bridge, too. It's very romantic," with a sly wink at me.

"How would you know?" Ryou chimed in. "What guy would get close enough to you for you to know?"

"Um...let's go get the train," I said hurriedly, as Usa opened her mouth to respond. Quickly, before these two get started again! Sigh. Ryou was awfully immature around Usa.

The blazing neon glare of advertisements greeted us everywhere, posters neatly lining the escalators descent, huge panels emblazoned with movies and beer plastering the sides of the walls at the bottom. The sound of someone playing jazz saxophone rang down the halls from where the player free-spiritedly gave nods to passers-by who dropped off bulky worthless change into his case.

As we entered the train, I couldn't help but gape around at the variety of ethnicities that crowded the tiny chamber. The train we'd taken into London early that morning had been practically abandoned, but now, as morning peak hour started, I found my elbow jabbing into the purse of a black-hooded Muslim woman, and my nose inches from the backpack of an Indian man, talking on his cell. Different looks; different clothing, different speech. Even if you'd run a Japanese subway train through a kaleidoscope, it wouldn't have had this much variety.

Ryou's face was more or less impassive as he cast a guarded gaze around and held his arm around my shoulders protectively. "Watch your pockets," he reminded me.

"I know," I whispered back.

I'd been through this before...and yet it was still so different.

Perhaps what made it most different of all was whom I was with. I didn't know if I should enjoy his company more or not...but guiltily, I had to admit...

I missed doing this with Len.

.

"You're such a girl."

"Eh?" I looked up from where I had been absorbed by the fascinating rainbow glitter of the diamond tiara of Queen Victoria. "That's obvious...but why are you saying that now?"

He sighed, watching my gaze float along with the tiara as the moving floor whisked us by. "You headed straight for the Crown Jewels. Didn't you want to visit the chapel or the dungeons first?"

"I dunno...I guess...our time is limited, so I thought we'd come see the main thing first," I said confusedly. "Oh look! It's the First Star of Africa! OMG, it's so huge!"

He chuckled slightly as I tried to shift in vain as it passed. The crowd of people behind us prevented me. I had a sudden vision of the lines tracing a domino pattern out the vault and into the half-hour wait line outside.

"It's so beautiful..." I gushed, quickly losing interest as Queen Elizabeth's coronation crown passed into view. "Ahh...the Mountain of Light! Ooh...shiny..."

"You really like diamonds?" he asked with a surprised glance.

"What girl doesn't?" I said happily. "Diamonds mean romance, and getting engaged, and marriage, and..."

"You know originally not all engagement rings were diamonds."

"Eh?"

"The diamond engagement ring became popular in the 1920's as a result of the Dubiers company. I think I'd prefer to give a girl a ring with a little more color," he added thoughtfully, gazing at the passing Orb, divided by pearls.

"You think about these things ahead of time?" I mentioned curiously.

"Mm hm," he answered absentmindedly, his hand searching around a bit at his side before finding mine and holding onto it tightly.

I swallowed hard to keep the butterflies from flying out of my mouth. Even Len had never gone this far in implications. Ryou and I had barely even kissed, and he was already mentioning stuff like this. The two of them were like fire and ice, so completely different.

"Show's over," he said suddenly, as we reached the end of the moving floor.

"Aww...can't we do it again?" I asked, disappointed and sneaking a glance back as the shuffle of people around us jostled us forward.

"No."

"Pwease?"

"No. Besides, I was hoping to see the organ recital at Westminster Abbey this evening. I want to make sure we have time, so we need to keep moving."

We emerged outdoors and were slammed with the bright afternoon light. The cobbled pavement was full of people moving quickly to their various tourist highlight targets, and above the buzz of foreign tongues, beyond the high grey stone walls that layered intricately, protecting the forbidding square building in the middle, I could very faintly hear the din of London traffic, the sound of a jack hammer pounding on a construction sight, the lonely blast of a freight ship pulling along the Thames.

I stifled a yawn and shrugged off the sleepiness that was threatening to creep up on me. Though the flight over had been uneventful enough to catch a good amount of sleep, normal travel exhaustion was laying its familiar hands on my shoulders.

"You okay?" I asked Ryou, who had circles under his eyes, too.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "You're holding up well."

"I've done this before. You?"

"To tell you the truth, this is the first time I've been outside Japan," he told me. "I'd already broken my ankle by the time the soccer team at school went to Australia."

"Do you like it?" I asked him. "Traveling? London?"

"Mm...I don't know about the traveling bit, but London is...nice." He smiled. "Alive. It's fun."

I wasn't sure if I agreed with him yet but...it was nice to see him having fun anyway. It seemed like it had been awhile.

.

"Beautiful."

"Yeah, it is." I gazed out at the sun, starting its westward descent, casting blinding glints off the ripples of the ever-moving Thames. The tall, clustered spires of the Tower Bridge rose immeasurably high in front of us, guarding the river.

"Wasn't talking about the scenery." He nudged me and smiled, drawing my wandering gaze to his eyes.

"I'd thank you, but that was really corny," I said flatly, nudging him back.

He laughed softly at me and turned from the rail to face me fully. "You're spoiled, you know? What, is this Tsukimori's fault?"

His face immediately said he realized his blunder. "Sumanai..." he mumbled bashfully. "I said that before I thought."

I can't help but forgive you when you look like that. "It's not a big deal," I shrugged, trying to convince myself it was true.

His expression was changing, now, from penitence to purpose. "What?" I finally asked, noting he was starting to lean forward a bit.

"Front, Center was right. This bridge is romantic."

I have a feeling I know why he's leaning forward...Like a mouse under the shadow of an owl, I stood petrified, unable to turn away from his gaze.

I want you to kiss me, here, now. I don't want you to kiss me. Just do it quickly so that I can quell this uneasy feeling! But I feel so guilty because...you've been with me all day long, and I've been thinking of Len...

"Relax," he murmured, his bang brushing against my forehead as he grasped my shoulders gently and tugged me closer. "I like you so much, Kaho...can you return that for me, just a bit?"

"Not here," I gasped, my brain whirling. "There are...so many people here...I'm embarrassed..."

In the end I chickened out. What's with the excuses, Kahoko? You want it as much as he does.

"Ah, I see." He accepted it easily and pulled back. "Sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you. You're right. Those guys over there are watching us. It's a bit creepy."

"It's fine..." No it's not! Yes it is! Make up your mind already, Kahoko!

The Thames was beginning to glow orange, except where bright spots of white wavered along the shores, as evenly spaced as the street lights above. The light lent extra softness to his face, covering the hardness of his carved cheekbones and jaw, muting the intensity of his gaze.

"We should get going," I said at last. "You wanted to see the organ recital..."

"It's probably over already," he told me, looking at his watch. "I wanted to watch the sun go down with you here, so I lost track of time."

"Back to Usa's apartment?"

"Yeah. I'm definitely hitting the sack early tonight."

.

"I don't hear her in there."

"Me neither. She should be pounding away at that keyboard, right?"

"Did she leave?"

"The door's unlocked." Ryou tested the door knob and pushed it just an inch open. "Maybe she left it open for us?"

"Should we wait for her?"

He gave me a grin. "Weren't you the one who said 'Not here' on the bridge? Isn't this a good opportunity to be alone?"

...Oh geez. That's what you're thinking about? "Um..."

"I'm kidding, kidding. C'mon, she wouldn't want us to wait outside."

"Yeah..." I conceded, and the two of us were silent for a moment, regarding the door to Usa's apartment.

Ryou finally cleared his throat. "Shall we?"

I opened the door, and as I did so, I hit something on the floor.

"Ow."

We stepped inside to see a dazed and mildly surprised looking Usa, lying on the floor and blinking up at the ceiling.

"What are you doing down there?" I asked her, mystified.

"Was practicing. Now on floor. What time is it?"

"Half past seven. You're going to hurt yourself someday, you know."

"Shuddup." She grunted and pushed herself up onto her elbows. Ryou reached down to give her a hand.

"You okay?" he asked as he pulled her up and steadied her.

"Fine. Just spinny and wobbly." She wended her way back to the piano bench.

"You seriously should be more careful," he chided her. She responded with a raspberry and, "Did you guys bring back food by any chance? I'm starving."

Ryou held up the bag of fast food we'd bought on the way back. "Are you good with French food?"

She regarded it suspiciously. "As long as it doesn't have truffles in it. Jacques has been trying to convert me to truffles. Says it's 'refined' to like them."

"Hardly." The three of us made a picnic on the floor and divided the goods.

"Whatcha been working on today?" Ryou asked her as he bit into a hard croissant with ham and cheese.

She reached up onto the piano and handed him the score. "Ravel. It's a beast."

"Why?" I asked curiously. "Ryou and I did 'Pavane por une infant defunct' a little awhile ago. I thought it was really nice, slow and peaceful and open sounding."

"Because." She drew herself up importantly. I could practically read "music theory lesson" on her forehead. "Ravel was innovative with harmony during his time. It's very easy to memorize pieces by Beethoven or Schubert or even Chopin, because they mainly stick to standard chord progressions. But Ravel has the tendency to creep into chords typical of jazz arrangements and..."

"You don't seem to have a problem with Debussy," Ryou noted, cutting in. "He's just as innovative, you know."

"Well, yeah, but Debussy tends to stick with patterns that are fairly readable, like quartel and quintel chords, and when he does strange chord progressions, he tends to follow a certain interval, like minor thirds or tritones..."

"You're just making excuses for not being good at Ravel..."

"I'd like to hear you try it, you..."

As I watched the two of them dissolve into the sort of music-theory jargon squabble that would be represented in anime as a bunch of kazoos going at each other, I allowed myself a little smile.

It was the most Ryou-ish I'd seen Ryou in months. Perhaps what I'd been assuming was sullenness due to not being able to play soccer was what Ichi had said: Ryou needed competition.

At that, I began to feel a little guilty that here he'd always been trying to pull me up, in music, in academics, in everything, really, when what he needed was a reason to work ridiculously hard, someone to have debates with.

Why am I not that person? Am I holding him back?

As Usa quickly began to lose her assumed cool and allowed herself to raise her voice in that super bossy voice of hers, Ryou rose to the occasion and sat back lazily against the piano bench with the self-satisfied smirk that drove her even more mad. He simply waited and nodded sarcastically at various intervals, until I wondered if she'd get pissed off enough to actually hit him.

The anime-ish thought of Ryou flying through the ceiling and Usa chasing after him in hot pursuit changed the little smile.

Giggle.

"Eh?" The two of them stopped with the suddenness of a hummingbird in midair and turned to face me with shocked looks on their face. The sight made me allow the giggle into a full-on laugh.

And like helium escaping from a balloon, it all exploded forth at once.

After an awkward moment, they joined me. The French food was forgotten as the three of us let loose and held our sides with laughter.

"I don't remember the last time I heard you laugh, Kaho," Ryou said when our giggles finally subsided and we found ourselves flat on our backs, staring at the ceiling. He smiled and reached over to grab my hand. "I love your laugh. It's like wind chimes."

Was it just me, or did Usa just tsk?

I let out a long sigh. My long-neglected laugh muscles were starting to hurt. Suddenly I felt sleepy.

"Hmm...I could seriously fall asleep right here." I closed my eyes contentedly.

"Ah. Good point. Shoot, who gets the bed?" Usa asked seriously. "I have a sleeping bag, but..."

"Ryou, you can take the bed," I told him. "It would be awkward if you had to share the floor with either of us."

"No way. I will not allow that under any condition," Usa said firmly. "No way I want him to sleep in my bed. On the floor he goes."

"Don't treat him like a dog, Usa. Anyway, he's fine with it, right, Tsuchiura?" I had a sudden evil vein pop up in my head. I do love tormenting my old roommate. "You didn't have a problem with Usa's bed back in my dorm room a couple of days ago."

Ryou shuddered slightly. "That was...different..."

"Wait." The two of us looked up at Usa, who had gotten up and was towering and glowering over us. She shot me a look laced with strychnine. "You. Let him sleep in my bed?"

Oh yes. That's the nice disgusted look I was hoping for. Gorgeous, Usa.

"It's not like it's your bed anymore," I said dismissively.

"Even so, since you don't have a roommate this semester...him being the first to use it after me is just...twitch" So saying, she proceeded to actually twitch. That was fun. I kind of want to do it again.

"And besides that he..." I began.

"Too much, Kaho." Ryou tapped me in the forehead. "Let her be, poor thing."

Usa's eyes flashed a warning signal of gruesome fates that would accompany Ryou to the gates of Hades if he dared to call her "poor thing" again.

"In any case, we're still stuck with the question of who's sleeping where," he continued. "I'd suggest I go over to stay with your gay friend, but on second thought...um, no."

She shrugged. "I'll camp out on the piano bench. It's my kitchen table, my lounge chair, my desk...Why don't you guys share the bed?"

Ryou blushed heavily and shot up to a standing position. "Um, we're not really comfortable with that..." I offered, blushing as well. Usa raised an eyebrow.

"What are you acting so innocent for, huh, Kahoko? You seemed pretty 'comfortable' with Tsukimori, from the sound of it...Oh, shizengemaken."

I avoided Ryou's sudden thunderstorm gaze like the plague and instead directed a look of, "I order you to commit hari-kari, right now, right here" at the by-now extremely flustered Usa.

"I take it he...didn't know..." she muttered, making a dash for the door. "You guys, um...talk it out. I'm going to...get my nails done. Or something."

Exeunt Usa. Chased by a bear.

I scooted several feet away from Ryou's intense glare and stared purposely at the crammed bookshelves.

"Care to explain something, Hino?" he growled at me.

Author's Notes:

Aaaand it gets suddenly awkward. Oh boy.

I really should go back and edit this chapter...it's really boring. I procrastinated and crammed it all in at the last minute. Sorry...


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

I swallowed hard, shielding my face from his gaze with my hands. "..." I said expressively.

The quiet calmness of his breathing filled the room.

"Is it true, Hino?" he asked at last, voice purring like a tiger.

I still couldn't answer.

He paced forward and stood in front of me, arms crossed. I didn't lift my head, letting my hair cover my flaming cheeks.

"Look at me, Hino."

I can't, Ryou. I don't want to see your pain.

He knelt suddenly and grabbed my face in his hands.

"Answer me! I deserve to know!" he shouted, and I winced at the tone of his voice.

Unable to look away, I whispered, each word dragging like a hot knife through my larynx, "I'm sorry...Ryou."

He gasped and let go of me, falling back onto the floor. I closed my eyes, though he wasn't looking at me anymore.

"Ryou..."

"I should have known. Should have figured...you two..."

"I..."

"Should have known you wouldn't hold back for me. Why did I even hope...?"

I peeked out at his hunched form on the floor as he grasped hold of his hair and bent his head between his knees.

"I'm so sorry...I know you're angry," I tried feebly.

"I'm not angry," his muffled voice elicited. "I'm disappointed."

I curled up onto Usa's bed and likewise buried my face in my knees. "I know."

He sighed and emerged, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "I guess it's just...I'm old-fashioned, Hino. I thought you would take the same view on this as I would." He gave a hollow laugh. "I always saw you on the same page as me. When did that change?"

Maybe it was always this way.

Do I regret it?

Cold, gently falling snow, the smell of fir and old tatami mats. Warmth under the blankets, the warmth of his hands, his lips, his smile.

Len changed that night, and so did I. Would I ever take that back?

Nothing would make me reconsider it...except the look in Ryou's eyes right now. Can I do anything to make that look disappear?

I reached out a hand to him hesitantly. Just as hesitantly, he extended his.

"Achoo!"

The two of us jumped. He sighed.

"Okay, Front, Center. We know you're listening."

The door cracked open and she peeped in. "What. Where was I supposed to go? I'm tired. You two reconciled yet? I wanna get to sleep."

He reached over and grabbed her by the neck of her sweater to pull her in. "Problem solved. Hino is taking the bed. You and I are on the floor."

"EH?" Usa and I chorused together.

"Revenge," he said matter-of-factly, and I wondered if he was referring to her or me.

I don't think any of us slept well that night.

.

When I woke up the next morning, I had a moment of blissful forgetfulness, instantly nullified by the inexplicable feeling of remorse. It took me a moment to remember why.

I desperately felt like drifting back to sleep, for a few more minutes of ignorance, the kind that comes and goes with consciousness, but my dreams were quite effectively blown away, like dandelions in a hurricane, as I fell fully awake at the sound of concealed snickering.

Groaning a little, my joints protesting that perhaps that the floor might not have been as hard as the bed afterall, I rolled over on my side to behold Ryou poised over Usa, armed with a felt-tip pin and silly grin as he meticulously added curls to a fabulous mustache on her face.

"OI. What the hell are you doing?" I asked loudly.

My voice was loud enough to rouse Sleeping Beauty, who, after one shocked look upward, drew back her fist and smacked Ryou in the face. He propelled backwards and collided with the bed.

"Itai!" A lovely stream of red trickled down from his left nostril. "What do you think you're doing?" he belted at her, fully awake and pissed. "You could've broken my nose."

"What are _you _doing?" she returned. "That's just...weird...and in front of Kahoko, too!" The black moustache made her grimacing even more menacing.

"Will the both of you just SHUT UP!" I roared.

They looked up, stunned. Usa meekly sat back down, the corners of her moustache drooping slightly.

"I'm sick and tired of this," I continued to tirade. "You're worse than you were before. It's obnoxious. You're like two junior highers. Grow up already, would you? Geez..."

Whether or not the bed was harder than it looked, it certainly had two wrong sides, and it seemed I'd woken up on both of them.

"Hmph! I'm getting dressed," I told them, loftily collecting my bag and heading for the bathroom. "Sort it out by then or Ryou and I are going elsewhere."

"You should check your face, too, Kaho," Ryou called to me, and I gasped and changed my waltz to a sprint.

"Kidding," his voice came from behind the door, and I sighed in relief to see an unmarred reflection.

By the time I emerged, Ryou was dressed also, and Usa still in her rabbit-patterned flannel pajamas, back pointedly turned, was plugged into her computer. I wondered if he'd told her about his "art" yet.

"What the hell are you listening to?" Ryou asked her curiously, trying in vain to peer over her shoulder at the tiny screen.

"Tchaikovsky's symphonic poem based on Dante's 'Inferno'."

"Ooh..."

"What's Dante's 'Inferno'?" I asked innocently, and a little more penitently. Perhaps I had come down a little harsh on them. It's not often that I lose my cool like that. I considered going out and buying coffee and hot cross buns as a peace offering.

They looked at each other with a knowing expression.

"I'm not telling."

"Me neither."

"There you have it, Hino," Ryou summed up. "Hey, can I listen?"

Usa guarded her headphones jealously, turning towards me enough so I could see the smeary remains of ink on her face. "No way."

"You could unplug them from your computer," he persisted

"What, listen to this piece on these crappy speakers? No way!"

"Stingy."

"You can have a turn afterwards."

"Come on." He made to grab the headphones from her, and as she fended him off, it happened.

Their hands brushed ever so slightly.

Usa blushed.

What? She doesn't have any right to blush! He's my man! Back off, you hussy!

"Ah...sorry, Usa," Ryou mumbled, not meeting her eye, and backing off instantly. "Forget it. You get back to listening to...whatever."

And now he's acting BASHFUL? And calling her by her name? What's all this? What's all this?

The moment shattered like glass. So did the window, incidentally.

We looked up just as a man with wiry reddish hair, dressed completely in black, leaned in, picked up the violin case from the floor before our very eyes, and nimbly disappeared back down the fire escape.

He had about a minute's head start as the three of us stared at each other in shock. Ryou broke from our mutual coma first.

"Come on, let's go!" he told me, pulling on shoes hurriedly.

"What'll we do?" I asked in bewilderment, copying him. My mind didn't seem to be working very clearly. Did what I think just happen happen?

"Chase," he answered matter-of-factly, his face betraying a slight hint of excitement, and we carefully climbed out through the window.

"Be careful!" Usa's voice came as we clanged down the rusted metal steps.

.

Luckily, the man hadn't made it out of sight yet. We glimpsed him dodging around the corner of the street as we reached the ground, and pursued.

Morning was setting into London, blurring the tops of the buildings with sunlit smog, the sky betraying building heaps of clouds above. Beyond the outlying district in which Usa's apartment was situated, downtown London's silver, modern skyscrapers gleamed in direct contrast to the archaic, faded houses and tiny shops, shoulder to shoulder with patches of anemic grass peeking out here and there.

The black figure in front of us weaved through the growing crowds of people, many of them of foreign ethnicities, faces set as they headed for the subway nearby. He was small and agile; we nearly crashed into a shopkeeper setting out wood crates of oranges on the pavement while he nimbly passed by, looking back at us from time to time, though he wasn't running yet. It wasn't necessary; Ryou and I were caught in the tide of people pushing in the opposite direction on the cracked and dusty sidewalk.

"How...did they find us...so fast?" I panted, trying very hard to keep up with Ryou's fast pace.

"The bridge," he answered grimly. "He was one of the guys watching us last night on the bridge. There must be more of them than we thought. Hold up."

He put an arm out to stop my momentum, as a car, horn going unnecessarily, cut the corner sharply. I caught my breath for an instant before he caught my hand and tugged me across the street.

"Looks like he's catching a taxi..." Ryou's voice took a sudden tone of excitement, only to be blotted out as he added, "False alarm, he's heading for the subway." Abruptly, he pulled me across the street down the stairs of the overflowing subway station. "There goes my fun..."

"Isn't it a good thing he's taking the subway?" I protested, as we reached the bottom and spotted the man squeezing onto a crowded car the next down. "It would be harder to catch a taxi, don't you think?"

Ryou muscled his way carefully onto the nearest car, me following closely, and edged toward the window, where we could watch the man, nervously glancing up at us, before he answered my question.

"Because, I've always wanted to grab a taxi and say, 'Follow that taxi!' Like in a thriller flick."

"Is this just a game to you or what?" I asked him coldly, feeling the momentum of the subway jolting us against the window. Above, the lights along one side of the ceiling flickered unsteadily, like a warning signal. "Are you sure he still has the violin with him?"

"Positive. We'll have to be careful to jump out when he does. I'll let you know when he's edging for the door."

At every stop, floods of people coming and going, alternatively crushing us to the back, we caught our breath, fearful that we wouldn't be able to make it to the door if the man got off.

"Two more stops left on this route," Ryou murmured to me after what seemed hours. "Look, he's heading for the door now."

The train was nearly empty by this time anyway. Without me having to ask, he explained, "Because we're likely approaching a residential area. There'll be a ton of people trying to get on when he arrive, to take the train in to work. We'll have to move fast."

"Right," I nodded vigorously.

He sighed. "It's going to be a pain getting back to Usa's apartment. We're out by at least an hour now."

Again, this with 'Usa'. When did you two get on such good terms, eh?

"Here he goes," Ryou muttered as we pulled into the last stop. "Ready?"

I nodded.

He was right. Like salmon trying to jump up a waterfall, we found ourselves facing a virtual tide of people streaming in. With effort, we made our way to the stairs and looked at the top for the man in black.

"He's over there, at the other exit," Ryou said at last. I looked over where he pointed and spotted the man staring at us before taking off in the other direction, violin case swinging from its handle.

"Let's go." Here, the buildings were tall and dark, apartment buildings falling together in ranks like soldiers, neat solid rows of hulking vultures.

"He's turned the corner again," I noted, and Ryou shouldered harder against the crowds, easing through sideways like a chisel. As we met the corner and turned into an alley, abandoned except for a gleaming eyed cat that leapt from a window sill to an overflowing garbage bin below, along with abandoned construction tools along the side, we both blinked in confusion.

"Huh?" Ryou's eyes immediately darted up and around at the barred windows above, while I stared stupidly at the solid brick wall ahead. "How did he escape?"

"There's a door over by those construction cones," I ventured, stepping ahead in the narrow shadows.

A second later I felt the pavement crumbling beneath my feet and shut my eyes instinctively.

"Kaho!"

Arms closed around me, the ground swallowed us up, and a few seconds later I felt my knees buckle painfully as we hit the bottom.

We're...alive?

I opened my eyes tentatively and stared up blankly at the sky above. We'd landed only about four meters down, in a small enclosed hollow in the pavement filled by a single small metal storage container.

"Are you alright?" Ryou asked, quickly pulling me to my feet.

"Yeah." I brushed the dirt off my knees, which were barely scratched up from our fall.

"He must be in there, let's go." We squeezed around to the front of the unit, and he heaved open the heavy metal door.

We'd quarried our prey at last.

His eyes flitting to the right and left, the man dropped the violin case in the back of the container with a metalic thud that echoed menacingly, and quickly side-stepped Ryou, who grabbed onto his arm and tried to haul him backwards.

"The violin!" I gasped, hurrying over to kneel and open the case. I sighed with relief to see the Guarneri uninjured. Though I wouldn't want to hear how out of tune it must be by now, with how much it had been through in the last few days.

"Ugh!" I looked up as Ryou was thrown against the wall, wincing slightly as he touched the back of his head. "Are you okay?" I asked, but he got to his feet again.

"Come on, he's getting away..."

_Creak_. BANG.

The unit rudely slapped us in the face with darkness as the door slamed shut at the entrance. And then came the sound of a metal bar being thrust across, and chains rattling.

"Kuso. Kuso, kuso, kuso!" Ryou sprinted over to the door and pushed. The door didn't budge. He screwed up his face and took a running start at it.

I winced at the sound of his shoulder smashing into the remorseless solid metal.

His face, lit by the little light that filtered in through small cracks in the walls, was grim.

"We fell for it."

Literally.

.

"You're sure there's no way we can open the door?"

"Positive." He touched his shoulder gently. "He locked it, probably with an iron bar, from the outside." He sighed. "Brilliant. Just brilliant."

"There's a tool box over here in the corner," I mentioned. "Do you think that would help?"

"Hmm...good idea. Maybe we can unscrew some of these panels? Look around in there for a Phillips head screwdriver for me." He placed his hands on the walls and began feeling for screws.

Eh? What kind of screwdriver? What's the difference between a screwdriver and a wrench? I rummaged around a bit, gingerly avoiding the rusty nails and paint razors in the sturdy wooden box, before pulling out my prize.

"Toss it over here. Thanks. This is perfect." Whew. I managed to get something right for once, completely on accident. I watched his form through the dim light as he tried out the tool on one of the screws.

A minute later, he swore slightly under his breath. "Not good."

"What's wrong?" I joined him at the panel. He was fingering it vainly.

"The screws and bolts are all rusted. I can't even get them to budge. The other side's just as bad."

"The ceiling?"

"Same deal."

I blew out my breath in frustration. "Okay, what do we do now? We can't stay in here forever."

"Your turn," he said flatly.

"Try calling Usa," I suggested after a moment. "She'll get the police to cut the lock on the outside."

"Good idea." Ryou pulled out his cell and looked at me expectantly.

"...?"

"Her number."

"Oh. Oh crap, I don't have it memorized," I groaned. "Stupid speed-dial option."

"You have that person on speed dial?" Ryou asked skeptically.

"Oh, don't give me that," I answered spitefully. "Didn't you guys look close this morning when you were fighting over the headphones? You sure you don't have any feelings for her at all, huh? What's with you two teasing each other like a pair of junior high kids who like each other but are too embarrassed to admit it, so you just hit each other and run away giggling?" I caught my breath sharply, regretting my outburst immediately

"Come off it," he said, his face darkening in annoyance as the light above started to fade even more, "you know perfectly well that you're the one I want. So why are you behaving so..."

"Are you sure you still want me?" Out of defensive impulse, I was starting to get more and more spiteful by the minute. "What's this about being old-fashioned? Are you sure you're okay with 'spoiled goods'?"

"Don't refer to yourself that way," he said quickly and angrily, looking up from his cell phone at last. "I don't care, you know? What really concerns me is that you won't accept me. I'm not Tsukimori. I'm me. I want you to want me for me."

"Ryou..." Why was it suddenly getting so dark? Maybe the sun shifted above? We were in a gap in the pavement, after all.

Worry started to replace anger, though I couldn't explain why. Above, I could hear the loud beeping of a construction vehicle backing up.

Ryou was still adamantly trying to get me to listen to him. "Look, I don't know how I've managed to wait for you so long. I don't know how I'm going to keep it up. But I can't just give up now. I've already waited..."

"Ryou," I grabbed onto his arm urgently. "That's enough. We'll deal with that later, but for now we need to worry about getting out of here, right?" The sounds of the cars on the street outside were becoming pillowed around us. Something in the corner of the container was dripping steadily with an odd silky sound.

He came back to the matter on hand with a start and slight gasp. "Yes, you're right. Not Usa, then. Do you know what the emergency number in the UK is?"

"Ah...no."

"I'll just start trying random numbers, then," he said, "and hopefully we'll get someone who can redirect us..." He frowned suddenly.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't get reception. The walls of this container can't be thick enough to...Oh." His face, already barely visible, looked up in sudden realization.

A small amount of something greyish and semi-liquid fell onto the back of my hand, cold and sandy.

Ryou grabbed at it almost feverishly.

"Cement..."

The word was like a death sentence. We gazed up together in horror.

"Hold me, Ryou," I whimpered, as the light finally died.

Author's Notes:

Bum bum bum bum. Our heroes are in trouble now, whatever shall they do?

About Tsuchiura-Usa. I played with this duo a bit in my last story; generally they managed to avoid each other in that one, but I found that cooping them up together in the same room in this story made them behave even more obnoxiously. I don't know why. They just do. I think Usa's the type that's really fun to tease, and Tsuchiura just can't resist. I had to let Kahoko vent a bit, because I was getting annoyed with them, too.

Three points to anyone who got the Dante's 'Inferno' reference ^^


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

The sounds of the city and of the cement pouring in from above were starting to fade now. I knew the cement would be harden quickly.

"Why didn't they just shoot us in the road?" I moaned. "It's worse...sitting here and _waiting _to die!"

"It could be worse," Ryou said optimistically. "We could be stuck alone."

I rolled my eyes in the dark chamber. "Thanks for that."

"I think, though, that they wanted us to disappear quietly, you know," he postulated calmly. "Shooting would have attracted too much attention, attention from Scotland Yard or something. They don't want their trail to be noted. Remember how they 'took care' of Tsukimori."

"Would you please not refer to this so logically, like it's someone else's problem?" I petitioned. "We could be dead in a few hours, you know that?"

"Gomen," he answered quietly. "I just want our last few hours to be as happy as possible, Kaho."

Something about the humility in his voice gave me a sudden sense of peace. "You're right. At least we have each other." I don't think I'd rather spend the end of my life with anyone else, honestly.

I leaned against his chest, where we sat, there on the floor of our metal tomb, and closed my eyes to listen to his heart. He slipped his arms around my shoulders and held me tight.

"I'm scared to die," I whispered.

"Me too."

"What's it going to feel like?"

"I don't know. Maybe it'll be easier than we think. Just slip off into nothingness, you know. I hope."

"Ryou?"

"Mm?"

"Do you believe in God?"

"Some sort of god, yes."

"Why?"

"It's easier to hope."

"You don't have any reason for it?"

"It's not like there's any empirical evidence either way. May as well believe what makes me happy."

"Ah...

"...Ryou?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you believe in an afterlife?"

"Dunno. It would be kind of sad, though, to only have twenty years and then, nothing. You know? There was a lot more I wanted to do."

"Yeah, me too."

"But if there is an afterlife, it means I'll be fighting with Tsukimori over you again." He laughed softly. "I think I'd prefer this life where that's concerned."

I permitted a little smile. "What sorts of things did you want to do?" I asked.

"Mm...music is an obvious. I wanted to play Ravel's 'Gaspard de la Nuit' someday, but I never got around to it. It's a devilishly hard piece."

"I wanted to play with an orchestra someday," I sighed. Like Len.

"Me, too. I wanted to do Liszt's second piano concerto."

"Hum it for me, please."

"Sure."

I felt the vibrations of his voice through his chest as he began to hum a slow, somewhat melancholy piece. The sound echoed narrowly in the muted darkness.

"It's nice. What else did you want to do?"

"What do you think?" he teased lightly, planting a kiss on top of my hair. "Marry you, of course. Have kids. Play soccer with them; teach them how to enjoy music. Buy a house in the countryside, so we could take walks in the evening and listen to the cicadas. Go on family trips together."

"Where to?"

"Mm...Hokkaido."

"I'd prefer Okinawa."

"Ah, the things we could have fought over."

"Oi, that's not a good thing."

"Yeah, it is. Talking with you, fighting with you, touching you, being near you...it's all good. I wanted your everything...always."

I shivered slightly at the low, possessive tone of his voice.

"It does kind of make you think, you know, 'What am I and what have I accomplished?'" he continued. "Think about it again, I mean. It's like déjavu. When Tsukimori died, it was like, 'Was it really worth it for him to give all his time in to music?'. Now I'm asking myself the same question."

"Really?" An uneasy misgiving was stirring inside me. "I feel like, 'Why didn't I spend more time working on music?' Why didn't I work harder back then? How was I content to choose entertainment over practice?" I regret it now...really.

He nudged my gently. "You sound like Tsukimori. He influenced you a lot, didn't he."

"In a good way." I sighed and felt the violin case on the floor next to me. "I want to play again, once more."

"That's not fair. I don't have a keyboard, how come you get the fun?"

I elbowed him slightly. "Lend me the light of your cell for a couple of minutes, okay?"

"Only if you play that piece that I never got to hear you finish, the one you played for the third selection."

"The Tchaikovsky?"

"Yeah. That one."

"Sure."

By the faint green flow of Ryou's cell, I carefully opened the case and rosined the bow quickly, tuning the strings to perfect 5ths, even though I couldn't tell if the notes were right. Then the Guarneri sang, maybe for the last time.

For some reason, it had never sounded so pure. In the deadness of our enclosed space, sound was crystallized, complete and clear, notes like drops of dew on a morning fern. I found my fingers responding with exact pitches.

When I'd finished, Ryou applauded for me quietly.

"You sound good on that violin."

"Mm." I reflected as I replaced it, tying the black ribbon around the neck carefully. "It's a Guarneri, after all. But..."

"...But?"

I sighed and snapped the clasps shut for the final time. "But it's not _my _violin. Not my Mahou." Misa had told me they had smashed Mahou. It was like my vocal chords had been cut. Trying to replace them would never be the same.

I sat back down next to Ryou and tried not to cry. He pulled me closer and stroked my hair comfortingly.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you spent your time learning violin."

"Thanks. What I wouldn't give to hear you play piano again."

"How's this?" He handed me the cell and crooned a gentle melody while his fingers danced, spiderlike, in midair.

I smiled softly. "Lovely."

"What a lot we are."

"And now we're left here to die, like two rats trapped in a sewer..."

"Yeah..." He sighed deeply and pulled me into his lap completely.

The silence wrapped the two of us in its chilling embrace, as I relished the feel of his arms around me and put my own around his neck. He was so warm...would this be the last feeling I had? Ryou's warmth...

.

It seemed the two of us sat like that for ages, waiting and cherishing the physical sensation.

Ryou, there's something I need to give you in these last minutes. To make up for everything I've made you go through.

I've been holding out, lingering, playing it safe, unwilling to move forward. And for what? Now all that could have been will vanish, all for the sake of my pride. If only I'd allowed myself to heal sooner, if only I hadn't taken advantage of his patience!

Yet, if this is all I can do in return, so be it.

I felt him gasp as I ran my hands along the sides of his face. The feeling of scratchiness along his jaw, that had first awakened my realization of his manliness.

I felt suddenly very free of the weight which had been caging my heart for the last six months.

I guided his face towards mine and let go of my inhibitions completely.

"Sewer..." Ryou's voice, jerking back suddenly, took on a thoughtful tone, there in the pitch darkness. "Kaho, hold up a bit.."

"Eh?" Reluctantly, I scooted off his lap, and he bent down with his ear to the floor of the container.

"Yes," he said, finally. "Kaho, we might be able to get out of here!"

"What? How...?" I asked, bewildered.

"Hang on a sec...There." He switched on his cell phone, and let its tiny glow light up the floor. "Remember how the unit is raised on cinder blocks? If the cinder blocks had gaps in them, the cement would have flowed between and blocked off the unit underneath. But they were solid all around. In other words, there is a gap between the floor of this unit and the floor of what used to be underneath."

"And you can hear water running...we're above a manhole!" I exclaimed in a rush.

"Yes." His face, lit greenly, showed determination. "This won't be fun, though."

I thought of dying in the dark, watching the little cell light lose battery die and flicker out, and shivered.

"Thanks, I'll take the risk."

"Good. Okay. I'm going to try to find a way to loosen these screws. Where's that tool box?...Alright. We haven't got much time, so can you help me? We're going to get this panel here. The others look rusted over."

I took the screwdriver he gave me and felt around in the dark for the screws, while he handled the larger bolts with a wrench.

Within fifteen minutes, we had lifted a narrow panel of metal, and he shone the cell light down into the gap.

"I'll go first," I said, lowering myself down. "Oof...it's pretty narrow." Working my way down, I managed to scoot down enough that I could barely crawl on my belly.

"Can you find the manhole?" Ryou's voice came anxiously from above.

"Yeah, I can hear water running a few feet up." So saying, I crawled forward, finding the heavy metal lid with my hands at last.

"Is it unlocked? Can you lift it?"

"Maybe, if you hand me the wrench as a lever. Are you sure we can't lift a panel closer to the manhole?"

"Positive," his voice came to me grimly. "I tried investigating the other panels. It was hard enough opening this one, and the bolts were all new."

I sighed as I managed to use the wrench to slide the cover off a foot or so, thanking the forgetfulness of the last utility man. "I should have had you do this," I grumbled belatedly. "Gosh, it's claustrophobic down here," feeling the floor of the unit pressing into my back and the concrete of the floor below. "You coming?"

Silence from above.

"...Ryou? What's wrong? Hey, you'd better get down here, too."

"I'm not coming, Kaho."

"...What?"

His voice trembled as he said, "It's not a big enough space for me. I'm so sorry...I need you to get help."

As the shock began to wear off, I managed to say, "Ryou, I can't leave you behind!"

"You have to." He lowered his head down with the cell phone extended in one hand, so that I could see that there was, in fact, no room for him down here.

"I'll stay with you," I said rebelliously, trying to back up. It proved more difficult than moving forward toward the manhole.

"Don't be ridiculous..."

"I'm not leaving you to die here alone!" I cried out, feeling tears start to well up. "I'm not losing you too, Tsuchiura Ryoutaro!"

"Kaho. Listen to me. When we came down here, there was a cross road immediately before the alleyway, remember? The name of the roads at the intersection were 'Cavendish' and '16th'. Remember that. They name roads, not blocks. Do you know how to say 'police man'?"

"Yes," I said in relief, remembering an old English lesson. "And they wear funny hats."

"Right. Good girl. Now, you'll need to follow the sewer until you find the next ladder up. It might be on a different level than this one, but hopefully it won't be too far off. If you find yourself somewhere you don't know where you are, stay calm, okay? Look for a coffee shop or a convenience store, and say you need a police man. _Don't panic_. Just keep asking until someone helps you. Once you've found a police man, have him take you to a police station, and ask for someone who speaks Japanese. They'll figure it out. Then come back to Cavendish and 16th, and they'll do the rest."

My head was spinning as his directions came rapid-fire. "Ryou...I don't think I can do this on my own."

"You can. I need you to, Kaho. Remember. Cavendish and 16th." He reached out the cell phone to me, and I took it carefully, seeing the gaping hole in front of me. "You ready?"

I held up the cell phone enough to see his face, at once concerned but brave. "Ryou," I said, taking a deep breath, "I love..."

"Don't say it," he interrupted quickly. "Tell me when you get back. I'm counting on you." He gave me his best attempt at a smile.

"I'll be back," I said determinedly, stretching out my hand to grasp the fingertips of his. "I promise."

"I'll be waiting," he told me, and with that I crawled into the opening of the manhole.

.

The tiny light of the cell glittered on the walls of the cavernous sewer, glistening on the dark stream of water that ran through the middle. As I jumped down from the ladder, the stench of sewage seemed to punch me in the stomach, so that even though I covered my nose and mouth with my hands, my eyes burned and streamed unstoppably.

My feet refused to move forward for a minute; I turned against the slimy plaster of the walls helplessly. My lungs pleaded for air; my senses revolted at the smell. I could barely see five feet in front of me, and even that was clouded by putrid mist.

How can I possibly do this alone?

But somehow, I have to! Ryou is waiting for me!

How?

My eyes were already stinging, but I'm sure tears of shame, helplessness, and despair were joining the liquid on my cheeks.

Which way do I go? Will I end up in the middle of a street? How will I find my way back?

I wanted to scream in frustration, but the stench of the air prevented me.

Forward. I need to go forward.

I pointed my shoes to the left and started to walk, though my knees were trembling so much I was afraid I would collapse onto the ground. I steadied myself against the wall, ignoring the feeling of slimy moss and algae, and tried to clear my head.

There's a Western saying that has something to do with the "light at the end of a tunnel". Where was my light? Did it exist, even?

After what seemed an indeterminable amount of time, the little light finally shone off the dull metal of another ladder, leading upward into a narrow tunnel, which in turn would lead to a manhole. Taking a deep breath, I stuffed Ryou's cellphone down the front of my shirt and climbed up. Steadying myself, I locked my feet around the rungs of the ladder, and pushed up on the heavy metal cover with all my might.

Nothing. Not even a budge.

Biting back frustration, I took as deep a breath as I was able to, and tried again.

Still nothing. I tried to turn it. Nada. Even the other manhole cover had been easier to move.

A wretched sob thrust its way up through my throat.

I can't even do this much? So I'm really useless, am I? Can't even do the bare minimum to save Ryou!

To make matters worse, the slickness of the ladder had its way with my shoes.

"Augh!" My scream reverberated barrenly down the pitch-black corridors of my labyrinth, and a second later excruciating pain jolted through my left arm as I connected with the floor.

Dazed and feeling utterly broken (and hoping I wasn't actually broken), I stared up into the darkness blankly.

Somehow, the pain brought me to my senses.

The manhole cover was locked, Kahoko. That's why it didn't move.

So what do I do now? I asked "sensible Kahoko" sardonically.

Find another one, of course.

What if that's locked, too?

Keep trying. There'll be one somewhere.

I'm getting farther away from Ryou.

Remember what he told you.

"Cavendish and 16th," I whispered emptily. I'll find my way back somehow.

I need to get up and keep going. There's nothing else to do. Certainly I can't lie here and feel sorry for myself. What will that accomplish?

I tried curling the fingers on my left hand and was relieved to find them responding. My wrist ached horribly, but it was probably just a sprain.

Geez. Len would kill me if he knew I hurt myself. Again.

I smiled in spite of myself as I pulled out Ryou's cellphone and bid its tiny light to show me the way.

Three manholes down, I finally found one that was unlocked. Bracing myself VERY carefully, I heaved it up and slid it open.

The high noon sunlight hit my eyes as mercilessly as the pitch black had earlier. Somehow I willed myself out, oblivious to the scream of a woman as I emerged, finding myself in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Several people spoke to me in harsh tones, gesturing to the manhole, probably telling me it was dangerous to leave it open, and what the heck had I been doing down there in the first place. I scooted it back with some effort, and stood there dazed, trying to get my bearings in vain, suddenly realizing what it felt like to be alone in a foreign country.

What did the signs around me say? Could I find anyone to understand me?

I knew I should have paid better attention in English class!

Steady, girl. Stay calm. Take a deep breath (finally).

Now open your eyes. Move forward.

Remember who's counting on you.

Author's Notes:

Kahoko is always the "damsel in distress", so I decided to shove her into a situation in which she had to rely on only herself. It's good for her ^^

Out of curiosity, I went back and added up the number of hits on "The Silence Between the Notes" since I first published it last February. The number came out to over 20,000. Wah! (does little happy bunny dance). But this story isn't as successful so far. Oh, well. I'll complete it anyway.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I looked around me in desperation, remembering what Ryou had told me. "Convenience store...or restaurant..."

I'd ended up in a busier section of town, though the buildings were still of the same type as the ones in the area of the alleyway from earlier. There were more shops and cars, and, as it seemed to be lunch hour, people rushing around everywhere to find food.

The flow of people streamed around me like water around a rock in the middle of a stream, unceasing, hardly even noting my existence.

The English words around me seemed to blend together into unmanageable symbols. Was that a pharmacy over there? A supermarket?

That sign with a star over there...looks like the French fast-food restaurant Ryou and I picked up food from before. Maybe I can try that. I crossed the street carefully and walked into the store and up to the cashier determinedly.

The girl, sporting bright fuscia-colored spiky hair and various piercings in direct contrast to her severe black uniform and apron, gave me a skeptical look, and the other customers paused in their conversations and meals to look me over for a minute before going back to what they were eating.

I suddenly became very self-conscious about my dirty, bedraggled appearance. No doubt I smelled horrible, as well.

Put that aside for now.

I thought of the times I'd had to perform on stage, that feeling of ultimate vulnerability, and summoned strength.

"Police...police. I need police," I told her awkwardly.

She cocked her head at me and said, "Wo-ot?"

"Police," I repeated, embarrassed that I couldn't do any more.

She repeated back at me, "Porise?" looking a little awkward herself.

Oh.

I remembered suddenly the story Hihara-sempai had told me about ordering coffee.

"Ano...pen. Please."

She understood that, at least, and handed me a ball-point pen and scrap of paper, looking up at the gathering line behind me somewhat worriedly.

I wrote down, as best as I could, "Police", and handed it to her.

"Ahh...'Police'. Okay." She grinned and held up her thumbs. "Okay." She called over to another worker and said something quickly. The worker glanced over at me quickly, and then made a quick call on his cell phone.

"Sit. Sit down. Okay?" She gestured to a table nearby, and I sat in the hard metal chair, trying to clear my stomach from the butterflies that were having a hay-day. After helping the line of people, she came back over with a cup of coffee and set it down next to me with a little sympathetic smile.

"Police are coming. Okay?" she told me. I nodded vigorously.

"Thank you very much," I said gratefully.

About ten minutes passed before a man with the familiar police hat walked into the door. The cashier pointed at me, and I stood, still feeling awkward.

"Come," he told me, and I followed him to the police car.

You never see anyone but criminals in the back seat of police cars, do you? At least, in all the movies I've ever seen, it's usually a teenage guy, caught drug dealing or drunk driving or something like that, sitting in the back with handcuffs on and a bored, surly expression.

But I have to tell you, I never felt safer than behind those barred windows, watching the policeman saying something on his walkie-talkie and easily heading down the crowded London streets.

Those guys might still be out there...what if they'd found me alone, on the street, without Ryou?

I shivered at the thought.

.

The policecar finally pulled into the underground car lot of a large stone office building, and the policeman helped me out politely, though casting a curious look at my rumpled clothes and dirty face and hands.

"Okay?" he asked, opening the door for me into a small, dingy reception room. Ah, "Okay", the international word! Gotta love it.

He lead me up to the glass-protected front desk and spoke into the microphone to the woman on the other side. Then he turned to me.

"Chinese?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Nippon-jin...ano...Japanese," I answered.

"Okay." He said something to the woman, who nodded and picked up a phone.

He gestured to a chair and whisked away, leaving me to look around at the fine old marble floor, the high ceiling with intricate but yellowing molding around the edges, and the other occupants of the room.

Somehow, this isn't nearly as exciting as I thought it would be...Not that I mind! Right now, all I can think about is how long it will be until we can get Ryou out!

At last, as a door from inside opened, the receptionist pointed the shortish, middle-aged man, with dark hair and vaguely Asian features on his reddish face, in my direction. Probably second-generation half-Japanese, I guessed. As soon as I saw that he was headed my way, I stood, my heart fluttering in my stomach.

He stopped in front of me and bowed briefly. "Konnichiwa. Ore wa McGraw Stephen. O-namae wa?"

Ah, Japanese at last! Music to my ears...

I bowed quickly to Detective McGraw and blurted out in a rush, "Hino Kahoko desu. Gomen nasai, ojamashimasu..."

"Please, come this way, Hino-san," he directed, gesturing toward a door in the lobby. It opened into a small sitting room, dark and windowless. Even when he turned on a lamp, the light seemed to skitter about uneasily, avoiding the shadows.

I sat in a dingy brown suede chair and tried not to look as scared as I felt. Regarding me with a thoughtful expression, he sat in a chair across the coffee table and leaned back easily.

"Now, I take it you're visiting from Japan, right? Did something happen? Well...under the circumstances, I have to assume yes, but..."

I scrubbed my hands nervously on my skirt and tried to explain.

"Trapped...Ryou's trapped...they poured cement over us, and the space under the unit was too narrow, he couldn't get out..."

The detective's face registered nil. "Huh?"

Great. Ryou's buried in a storage unit under four feet of cement, who-knows-where in this crazy city, and I am afflicted with diarrhea of the mouth.

"I...my friend and I, Tsuchiura Ryoutaro is his name, we were visiting a friend in London, and..."

Should I explain about the violin? I swallowed hard.

"...And?" he prompted. "Something you're not comfortable with mentioning, I take it?"

Shit, he's shrewd. Guess I have no choice.

I blew out my breath and explained everything from the top, from Len's accident to Misa-san asking me to take the violin, to our discovery of the writing under the lable, to what had happened that morning. When I'd finished, Detective McGraw's expression was startled, to say the least. But somehow not as skeptical as I'd expected.

"Tsukimori Len, the violinist, huh," was the first thing out of his mouth as I paused for breath. "Interesting, very interesting...Where is the violin now?"

"It's still with Ryou."

He nodded. "Believe it or not, that's the safest place for both of them right now."

"What, are you crazy?" I blurted out. "He could die soon! The concrete is probably solid already!"

"Yes. Soon. But not soon enough." Detective McGraw's expression was somewhat satisfied. "Don't worry, Hino-san. Concrete we can take care of. A dead body is harder to work with."

He got up suddenly, smoothing out invisible wrinkles from his starch-ironed khakis, and walked over to a glass-windowed book case along the wall, though he didn't seem to be perusing the books inside.

"Fifty years that violin has had that secret," he said softly. "At last, there's going to be some justice...Did you happen to see the faces of any of the men who were chasing you at Narita?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes, but..." I hesitated. "I don't think I could describe them for you. Ryou could, though." Once we GET HIM OUT.

"Good to know. Finally, we're going to crack this thing." As he turned around, his expression gave off the same light of excitement and confidence that Ryou had been sporting about the whole mystery.

I found myself wondering how he'd known about this situation before I told him, though...

"First thing's first," he said as he sat back down. "This might be hard, but I need to not to mention this to anyone else, even other people in the precinct. If anyone here asks, just tell them I gave you instructions not to. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes." Not that anyone else here would understand what I'm saying anyway.

"Okay. Now. About your friend...Tsuchiura-san?"

"Yes." I looked up at him eagerly.

"Can you tell me the name of the street he's located on, and the nearest cross road?" Detective McGraw asked calmly.

I opened my mouth to give the answer Ryou had drilled into my head in those last few minutes that I'd seen him.

Nothing. My mind was a blank.

How could I forget? Now what was I to do?

Detective McGraw was watching me keenly, and, at the dumbfounded expression which crossed my face, he gently said, "Can you try for me, please? What can you remember?"

Everything seemed a blur! The train ride...the chase...the alleyway...I couldn't remember a thing!

Ryou...you're trapped, still, in your coffin of cement, and here, now, when I'm so close to freeing you...I...

I can't give up! I have to do something!

"Give me a moment," I said shakily, closing my eyes and leaning forward in the armchair to rest my hot forehead in the palms of my hands.

"Sure. Go ahead. But don't take too long. The air in that chamber will be turning to poisonous carbon dioxide within hours."

Thanks for the added pressure!

Think, Kahoko, think! What do you remember?

I remember...blue hair, and serious amber eyes...

.

"Didn't I already give you a week to work on this piece, Hino? What have you been doing all this time?"

I cringed at the tone in Tsukimori-kun's voice, trying to ignore the impatient tapping of his patent-leather soled shoe.

He's going to leave for Europe sometime soon, and I have to do my best to learn what I can from him while he's here. So I have to try harder.

"Once more, please." Tsukimori-kun crossed his arms and gave me a stern look. "From measure 64."

"Hai." I nodded vigorously and lifted the bow to the strings, praying that I could somehow get the result he wanted before the afternoon was finished.

The horse hair made contact with the D string, and I prepared to pull it across the string...

Blank. Left hand fingers wouldn't move.

What's the melody? What's the first note, even? What's the phrase before this one?

I don't remember anything!

"What are you waiting for? A fairy to come along and guide your bow?" Tsukimori-kun's voice was like frozen arsenic. Poisonous, and cuttingly icy to boot.

"That would be nice," I muttered, glancing around surreptitiously for Lili. To my joy, I spotted him sitting on the window sill, legs crossed and kicking, looking eagerly at me.

_What do I play?_I mouthed at him silently.

"You figure it out," he told me mischievously. "It's a good learning experience." He winked as he drew a blue circle around himself with his wand and disappeared, leaving me stranded and looking dumb, in front of Tsukimori-kun, nonetheless.

Why, that little...!

"What are you looking at, Hino? Listen, I'm already taking time out of my schedule, when I should be studying German, or packing..."

"Eh?" I tilted my head to the side slightly to give him a quizzical look. "Packing already? You aren't leaving for awhile, right?"

He turned slightly red and looked away. "It's...I...have some extra things I need to...send ahead..."

"Like what?" I asked curiously.

"Like music books," he answered, reverting back to his normal crispness in the blink of an eye. "Like the music that you're SUPPOSED to be playing right now! What's wrong, anyway?"

"Um..." I stalled awkwardly. He replied with raised eyebrows.

Yargh...

"I...I...dunrememerwhutoplay," I mumbled sheepishly.

"What?"

"I..." I blew out my breath and looked away. "I don't remember what comes next. I memorized this, I really did, went through it over and over in my head but..."

"Hino." I looked up as he walked forward, directly in front of me, and looked me in the eye. I felt my cheeks grow warm at how close his face was to mine, how deeply his eyes were penetrating into mine.

"I'm sorry!" I wailed suddenly, letting my violin and bow drop to my sides (carefully). "You must think I'm such a lost cause..." My nose decided to take the opportunity to run without concern for my dignity.

"Hey." His voice was gentle. "It's okay."

Sniff. "What?"

He handed me a stark white handkercheif. "I said, it's fine. This happens all the time. Forgetting music is a musician's worst nightmare, but it happens to the best of us." He chuckled ever so slightly. "The stories I could tell you...once, before she married my dad, my mother was playing Mendelssohn's piano concerto with the principal conductor in Berlin, and somewhere between the second and the third movement, she completely lost where she was."

"Really?" Misa-san did? Somehow I couldn't believe it. "What did she do?"

"Well, at first she sat there looking at the conductor with a hidden plea of, 'What do I do?', which he answered with a longer-than-necessary fermata, just holding the strings at a tremelo, and still she couldn't remember anything."

"And then what? Did she continue playing?" I was feeling a bit concerned for the twenty-years-ago fate of Misa Hamai.

Len smiled wanly. "Oh, yes. As a matter of fact, she improvised. She started with a long arpessio from treble into bass, and then she trilled in the left hand while the right hand repeated a fragment of an earlier theme. And at last, when the conductor began to give her the 'Well, do you know it or not?' gleam in his eye, the music popped into her head, and without missing a beat she headed straight back into it."

I let myself laugh. "Did anyone notice?"

"Oh, other than the conductor, the orchestra, and the music critics who pounded her mercilessly in the papers afterwards, no, it was practically unnoticeable."

He reached out and took the bow and violin gently from my hands. "Try playing it in the air."

"O...okay..." I lifted my hands, feeling like a fool, and drew my imaginary bow across imaginary strings, while my left hand played the imaginary notes.

"Remember it now?"

"Yeah. Can I have my violin back now?"

I could swear the look in his eye bordered on evil. "Only if you say 'Pretty please, Tsukimori-sensei."

"Eh? I have to say that?"

"Yup."

I sighed and looked longingly at Mahou. "Pretty please, Tsukimori-sensei," I chanted dutifully.

"Now kiss my hand." He held out his right hand with a daring look.

"That wasn't part of the original deal," I retorted, reaching out quickly to take back the violin and bow.

He laughed, softly as a spring breeze over a brook. "Ready?"

"Yup."

.

"Hino-san? Hino-san?"

I looked up at Detective McGraw's weathered rudy face. "Are you ready?" he pressed me. "We don't have much time."

"Yeah." I closed my eyes and concentrated.

The sun had been rising...it had hit the left side of my face and kissed my cheek with sudden warmth. The subway entrance was full of busy people, carrying briefcases and large purses. There was an ice cream shop on the other side of the street. The street sign above read...

"Cavendish and 16th," I said slowly. "The alleyway right after Cavendish and 16th."

Detective McGraw gestured to a waiting police officer, who wrote something quickly into a small notebook and hurried off. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," I answered emphatically. "The alley is on the right side of the street as you approach it from the south. There were construction cones half-way into the..."

"We'll find it," he assured me. "Perfect. You did well. Come with me."

"Where are we going?" I asked bewilderedly, as he ushered me out into the hall, where police officers and other personnel were moving quickly, the sound of telephones ringing incessantly, tiny cubicles clustered into a corner.

"You'll have to wait in here," he told me as we stopped in front of a heavy wood door, taking out a circlet of keys to unlock it. I found myself in a large conference room, with dark wood panels covering the walls from floor to ceiling, and a long, care-scratched table with about twenty dingy chairs lining it.

"If you need any food or water, use the telecom," he gestured to the front of the table. "I know you're probably dying for a shower, but we can supply that later. For now, this is safest for you and your friend."

"What...Can't I come, too?" I asked, anxiously.

"I'm sorry, but that will inhibit our workers, and furthermore, we don't want to raise a fuss. We'll do this as quietly as possible, to avoid attracting attention." He hesitated sympathetically as he looked down into my forlorn face. "Don't worry. We'll get him out," he promised. "Hey. You did good. Your friend will be proud of you."

With that, he left me alone in the solemn room, locking the door behind him.

Author's Notes:

Yes, yes, I know, another cliffhanger. Somehow this chapter ended up longer than I expected, so I wasn't able to add in the "reunion".

Incidentally, I just started reading the manga all the way through for the first time. Earlier I'd picked up where the anime left off. I about cried when her original violin broke. Waaah! But I liked her reaction better in the manga; she didn't mope about for three episodes like in the anime; just got right back on the horse. However, the anime was probably more realistic. Any musician who's had an emotional event with a performance and decided to quit, only to realize they can't live without music afterwards, would understand. That's what really touched me the first time I watched the anime. Um...yadda yadda yadda, this is all irrelevant...

Hope to see you in the next chapter! And reviews would be nice, too...(hint hint poke prod)

Translations:

Ore wa McGraw Stephen. O-namae wa? : I'm Stephen McGraw. What's your name?

Hino Kahoko desu. Gomen nasai, ojamashimasu... : I'm Kahoko Hino. I'm sorry, I'm intruding...


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Somehow, I managed to make it through those next, agonizing two hours. If you were to ask me how, I swear I couldn't explain.

But they passed. They really did. And there were keys in the door, the handle was turning and...!

"RYOU!"

"Umph!"

Remember how I said a slender girl couldn't possibly tackle a football player? Well, I can attest to that. Twice.

For the second time, I found myself hitting Ryou's rock-solid shoulders and beginning to make the humiliating descent into a pool on the floor, but before I managed that much, I felt his arms close around me tightly.

"You're alive," I mumbled into his ribcage.

"Your powers of observation astound me, Hino." Somehow I could sense his grin. "I knew you could do it," he added softly.

"Sure you did," I said snarkily, relief passing into sarcasm. "I bet you were waiting down there fully confident that you were about to die."

He pulled me up so I could look at him proper. "Yeah, the thought crossed my mind," he admitted. "But you came through, didn't you? Anyway, dying wasn't the scariest thing I thought of down there."

"What was?" I asked.

He rubbed a bit of something green off the end of my nose. "The thought of never seeing you again, Kaho."

An ill-disguised cough broke into our gooey-eyed fest. "Yes, yes, lovely ending to the story," Detective McGraw said briskly. "Now we need to get down to business. Come back in here, and we'll have a sit-down."

Mystified, we let ourselves be herded back into the conference room, and watched as he locked the door, testing it before turning to us.

"Take a seat," he offered, sitting at the head. "Hopefully this won't take too long. Tsuchiura-san, would you hand me the violin, please?"

I watched my violin case, harboring the priceless Guarneri, pass from Ryou to Detective McGraw with a strange sense of regret. As the detective carefully lifted the violin to the light, peering into the F-hole until he was satisfied it was the right instrument, a little knot twisted in my stomach. The musty light glimmered off the wood, taunting, tantalizing, begging to be played.

So beautiful...so deadly. And oh, how I ached to play it again!

Then it was put back into the case, locked away, and that was, perhaps, the last time I ever saw the Guarneri.

"It's authentic," Detective McGraw told us. He smiled a little wistfully. "Actually, I used to play the violin, a long time ago. Although I'm not one of the detectives assigned to this case, of course I've heard of it, and so it piqued my interest. I never thought I'd get to hold the instrument, though." He gave me a knowing glance. Then he cleared his throat.

"Anyway, we'll be taking over from here. Hino-san, what you told me you guys guessed from the names inside the violin is correct, so briefly, I'll fill you in on the rest, although I can't give you all the details.

"In 1960, as you know, there were a series of unexpected assassinations in what was then the Soviet Union. The killers were completely untraceable at first, and nobody could understand why. Some even started to doubt that they really were assassinations in the first place. Gradually, four of the assassins were discovered, through various other 'assignments', but because there were practically no links between the five assassins, no one ever figured out who the fifth was. Meanwhile, the Guarneri itself passed into the hands of the Academy, who, despite discovering the 'secret', decided not to reveal what they knew because of negotiations with the 'fifth assassin', who is, at this moment, in a position of power in Russian politics, and therefore worthwhile to stay on his good side.

"When Tsukimori-san was granted the violin on loan, the Academy tailed him with an agent to keep an eye on him and make sure that if he did discover the 'secret', the instrument would be removed immediately without his notice, and invalidate any protests that he might bring forth. Unfortunately, the Russian politician and his little band didn't trust the Academy completely, so they also tailed him. Both sides witnessed his discovery simultaneously and...well..."

He gave me a look of sympathy, and then passed one on to Ryou, as well.

"That's all I can tell you, for now," he told us. "On behalf of Scotland Yard and the other investigators involved in this case, I'd like to thank you for your bravery and discretion." He gave us a shallow bow. Then he sighed.

"Unfortunately, now we're going to have to make you disappear for awhile," he told us grimly. "I know it's inconvenient, especially with your college and all..."

"Why?" I asked, frowning. "And how long?"

"Until we get these guys. I don't want to think about they'll do if they find out you're not...er...incarcerated."

"What about Front, Center...I mean...Usa?" Ryou cut in. "She's a friend of ours that we've been staying with. She knows about the violin, too. Will they go after her?"

"We'll keep an eye on her," Detective McGraw answered firmly. "Can I have her address?"

"She doesn't have to 'disappear' too?"

"No, it'll look suspicious. We'll just keep her under watch to make sure nothing happens."

Ryou looked satisfied, but suddenly I didn't.

"But can we at least tell her where we are?" I asked in concern. "She'll be frantic if we go missing."

Detective McGraw shook his head. "I'm afraid that's out of the question."

Ryou's protests overlapped mine. "What?" "Why?"

He sighed heavily. "She'll be safest if she doesn't know. You'll be safer, too. Everything will be revealed in time. Just be patient.

"We'll send you to a safe house up near Aberdeen, Scotland, by the Caledonian Sleeper train this evening. Before that," he nodded to me, "let's get you a shower, and we'll send out to get you some clothing and supplies for your stay. I'll accompany you up to Aberdeen, and after that, we need you to stay in the safe house until we send word that we've closed the case. I don't know how long it will be, but we'll do our best to get you home soon."

"No, you may not join the case," I shot at Ryou, who had a sort of pleading look in his eye. I looked knowingly at Detective McGraw. "He fancies himself a detective," I informed him.

The detective broke out into hearty grin that betrayed his Scottish heritage.

.

That evening, feeling much cleaner, but also a bit burdened, not only by the knowledge that we'd be leaving our loved ones without knowledge of where we were going, but also by the wide-brimmed hats and large sunglasses we were wearing to stay "under cover", though the complete lack of sun made us stand out even more, we boarded a night-bound train to Scotland. Detective McGraw practically stayed at my elbow until he'd deposited us into the tiny little cabin we'd be staying the night in.

"You be careful," he told Ryou sternly, who reddened and replied indignantly, "You don't need to tell me that!"

"And both of you, stay in here as much as possible. Don't go wandering about," he continued. "I'll be in the next room down. The restroom is right around the corner. Please don't leave the window open if you can help it. We'll be arriving at about 7:15 in the morning." He clapped Ryou on the shoulder. "Get some rest. Good night." He skivvied out and closed the door quickly behind him, leaving the two of us awkwardly nose to nose with very little chance of widening that proximity any time that night. Well, more like nose to collarbone, actually, given the height difference.

Ryou heaved a sigh as he dropped the cheap duffel bag containing his new supplies on the floor, and took off his shoes before sitting wearily on the shelf in front of the window. "Well, this sucks," he said pragmatically.

"Do you want top or bottom?" I asked, putting my bag on the bottom bunk without waiting for his reply. I hate heights. Then I joined him at the window.

The train engine heaved itself into motion, speed gradually picking up over a couple of miles, until the clack clack of the wheels on tracks settled into a steady 2/4 beat.

Ryou watched me keenly for a few minutes before asking, "You okay?"

"Yeah..." I sighed, watching my breath fog up the window and tracing in it with my finger. "Just worried about Usa. What's she going to do if we go missing? It might be months, even."

He stared at the foggy window as if he was considering drawing in it, too. "I don't think it'll be that long, really. Detective McGraw seemed pretty confident that they could catch these guys quickly, especially with international help, and with our evidence and the recovery of the Guarneri. As for Front, Center, she'll do what she always does."

He sounded so certain that I passed him a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged and leaned forward to draw little circles on top of mine. The trail his finger left was so much wider than mine. "She'll hole up with her piano and music and try to forget as much as she possibly can. She told me once that's how she's dealt with pretty much everything for a long time. Otherwise the loneliness would eat her alive."

"Usa, lonely?" She never seemed that way to me. Hyper, yes. Obnoxious, absolutely. Obsessive out the wazoo. But not lonely.

He shrugged a little. "Has she ever told you anything about her family situation?"

"No." She avoided it as a matter of fact.

"I guess she's not too close to them. She described herself as the 'black sheep'-the sole musician. Feels like none of the rest of them understand her. Well, you know her, she's a drama queen."

I smothered a smile. "Putting it lightly."

"Mm. But a sincere drama queen."

He went quiet suddenly, blew into the window, erasing the tracks we'd made.

"How come you know all this about her, anyway?" I asked, feeling the prowling monster "jealousy" rear its scaly green head again. Though I guess it was really that I was jealous that she'd told him and not me. I thought I was supposed to be her closest friend, so why was she more open with him?

"We met up a lot in the library last year," he answered, offhandedly. "I don't know why, but she talked, I listened. Well." He leaned over and grinned in my face. "Forget about her for now. Aren't you excited?"

"About what?"

"You. Me. Locked up together in an old house in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, when's the last time we had a chance to be alone together? Kahoko."

His eyes were taking on "possessive" again. I swallowed hard and met his gaze steadily.

"Yes?" I whispered.

He reached out his hands to take mine, his gaze never faltering as he did so. I felt the frozen tip of his index finger stroking my left palm.

"You were going to say something as you left me behind in the dark, weren't you?" Eyes, serious, determined, plumbing the depths of mine, pleading like the soul of a hound. "Won't you finish it for me, please?"

Yesterday, I was wavering.

Struggling with my heart. It knows Len is gone, yet it can't purge the memory of his smile. Still digging up the interred bones of the past, searching for ghosts, unseen, unreachable. Immaterial as the frozen breath on the window.

Ryou...I'm past that now.

I let my eyes radiate _I am yours _at him for the first time.

All yours. I won't hold back anymore, I swear.

It should have been like this from the beginning...I knew it all along. Like we were meant to be.

I can trust you with my heart forever.

"Ryou, I love you."

My hands shook in his. Somehow, getting that out there is the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever done.

He released my hands to draw me into his arms. Warm, firm, steady and tender. Like his feelings toward me.

...His cheesiness is rubbing off on me. I guess I don't mind.

He lifted the hair from my ears with the breeze of his reply:

"I know."

We swayed back and forth together, to the steady rocking of the train.

A kiss would be perfect here, wouldn't it?

But this is enough. For now.

.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"There's our wakeup call," Ryou grumbled from the top bunk, sitting up gingerly to avoid the ceiling. "Man alive they're ruthless...You sleep well?"

I smiled blissfully and hopped out from underneath. "Never better." Ha. I dropped off to sleep easily enough, had a deep, satisfying slumber, woke up an hour ago and couldn't get back to sleep. Why?

I said "I love you" to Ryou. At long last. My heart feels as light as a feather. Whee!

A thump and groan from above alerted me to his dropping back onto the hard bunk. "Why are you so chipper?" he grumbled. "I thought you weren't a morning person."

"I'm not," I sang, opening the narrow window to invite the cheerful grey of the coastline morning into the tiny compartment.

"For God's sake...do you have to open that?"

"Are you awake now?"

"Like it or not."

Pause. "Are you okay, Ryou?"

"NO. I had a horrible dream last night that Tsukimori's ghost was chasing me around a storage unit with a conductor's baton." He emerged groggily and sprang straight down to the floor. Apparently he can jump down as gracefully as he can jump up.

I grinned at him. "This space is really small."

"Yeah."

"ATTACK!"

"ACK!"

I pinned him against the wall and buried my head in his chest. He chuckled lightly and rubbed the top of my hair.

"You're like a kid," he told me unnecessarily.

"I'm happy."

"I'm glad you're happy."

"Are you happy?"

"Yeah."

I took a deep breath, inhaling the starched smell of the unlaundered new shirt he was wearing, and tried to memorize his early morning scent.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Ryou reached around me to open the door.

"Breakfast."

"Thanks."

Slam.

He set down the little paper bag on my bunk and smiled down at me. I smiled up at him.

"You haven't shaved in like, three days, have you?" I noted.

He blanched as he rubbed the sides of his face with his hands. "Is it noticeable?"

"Yup."

He looked away, embarrassed. I took his face gently in my hands and guided his gaze back to me.

"It's manly."

…

"That shade of red is really becoming on you, Ryou."

"Shuddup." He reached for the sides of _my _face and pinched my cheeks. "I bet your legs are just as bad."

I gasped and swatted him on the shoulder. "What the...why are you even _thinking _that way? Geez..."

The squealing of the train brakes, paired with a sudden deceleration, alerted us that we were arriving at our destination and terminated any possibility of Ryou investigating my forests-for-legs. Oh, shame.

"Got everything?" Ryou asked.

I swung the duffel bag full of survival supplies onto my shoulder. Then I grabbed his hand.

"Yup. Everything."

I opened up the door and jumped a foot in the air. Detective McGraw was waiting outside with his nose practically plastered to the door. Yeesh. If you ask a bloodhound to do his job, he does it thoroughly, I guess.

"You ready? Where are your sunglasses? Hurry up and put them on. I have a car waiting just outside the station. We'll be at the safe house in about an hour."

.

Ten breezy minutes later found Ryou and me on the mauve leather seats in the back of a shaded sedan, the warmth of his left hand enveloping my right, alternating between grinning at each other goofily and trying to peer outside at the dreary, heathered scenery outside. The hills rolled very gently, here and there dotted with grazing sheep, before dropping off dramatically into the slate-grey ocean. In other words, there was very little to see, but that little was bleakly lovely, conjuring strange, wistful, nostalgic feelings, even for a foreigner.

McGraw looked up sharply at Ryou through the rearview mirror. "I hope you guys got enough sleep last night."

"Yes, sir," Ryou said meekly. I restrained a giggle. So this is what you get if you stick two "old-fashioned" guys together. I was humoured.

"I hope you don't mind, there's one other person staying here right now." He raised his eyebrows at Ryou, whose expression had sunk into disgruntled.

Fantastic. We have a _chaperon. _Not humoured anymore.

"I got permission to switch over to this case, by the way," he continued his string of unrelated one-liners. "Since you guys are involved, it's best to have a Japanese speaker on the case. However, I'm afraid that there won't be any internet or phones allowed at the safe house. And I can't send letters by post, either. But I'll keep you updated weekly through the person who will be dropping off supplies. For this reason, we don't have any means of taking care of you if there's an emergency, so try not to get hurt, okay? Hino-san, how is your wrist?"

I touched the stiff ace bandage that was wrapped around my left hand. "It should be okay. It's just a sprain, so hopefully it'll be healed in a week or so."

He nodded. "If it isn't, let the supplier know immediately, okay? Oh, and Tsuchiura-san..." He hesitated.

"Yes?" Ryou prompted after a moment.

"...I'm sorry." His tone was really regretful.

"About what?" Ryou asked curiously.

The wheels of the car ground suddenly on gravel, and the ride became very bumpy. Ahead, I could see a tall, peaked building, Gothic in structure, cloaked by tall poplars. When we got out of the car a few minutes later, I found my mouth dropping open as I looked up, up, at a truly classic manor, grey stone towers reaching their spired hands upwards into an equally grey sky, wings stretching out to the east and the west, and large, shuttered windows yawning across the entire bottom floor. Rows of neglected rosebushes cast their gypsy blossoms wherever whim dictated, and a ruined stone fountain with headless lions in front stood silent.

"It's not much," McGraw-san said, as he unlocked the heavily chained iron gate, studded with diamond-shaped spikes at the top, "but it'll keep you safe here until we settle this case. I'm sorry about the inconvenience, but it's better than you guys ending up getting killed, you know?"

"Thank you so much," I said, tears of gratitude starting to well up in my eyes. "We're such a bother to you but..."

"Not at all," he said, managing a terse smile. "Tsuchiura-san, would you help me with this gate? It's very heavy..."

The two of them grasped the bars and began to push against it with all their might. As the gate began to swing slowly open with a rusty creak, I heard another sound.

An impossible sound.

I stumbled through and stared blankly up at the upper tower above. Its maroon curtains hid the chamber from sight, like a cape around the shoulders of a vampire.

"Kaho? What's wrong?" Ryou asked in surprise, as I anxiously waited for Detective McGraw to open the inner door, carefully locking the gate behind him.

I couldn't answer, even as I dashed inside, bumping my shoulders into the door in my impatience for it to open.

That sound, that impossible sound...

Len's Ave Maria.

Author's Notes:

Review, gosh darn it!


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

Grey stone steps, flat and solid and smooth. Doors, hard wood, brass knockers, that take so long to open and close.

Up the stairs, so many stairs! Winding up and up. When do they end? Steps, more steps!

Forward, onward, upward! When does it end? I must get there, immediately.

Is it my ears leading me, or my heart?

And when do these steps end! Grey granite, worn smooth, no windows, just stairs...

And the door at the top!

I paused with my hand on the brass handle, gasping for breath, suddenly noticing how sharp the pain in my lungs was. Had I been holding my breath this entire time?

That sound...that Ave Maria...what if it wasn't his? Could my ears be deceiving me?

I flung open the door.

A tall figure dressed entirely in black was facing away from me, playing the violin, making it sing, making the notes live. These are Len's notes; but the shoulder length hair was jet-black.

I felt every hope in me die, plunged through the floor into abysmal darkness, even as the figure turned and said something, with a face that was too blurred for my eyes to make out.

.

"Kaho. Kaho, are you alright?"

Ryou's voice rang urgently, panicking, in my ears.

"Ryou...I'm fine," I murmured. I was wrong, afterall, wasn't I? The hands that cupped my face, bringing a glass of water, were Ryou's, after all. I needed these hands, strong and steady. I looked up gratefully into his face.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," I whispered, trying to sit up. Cushions immediately found their place behind my back, and I leaned against them, closing my eyes against the pain in my head...and my heart.

"Kahoko...is it okay if I leave you for a minute?" Ryou asked softly. "There's something I need to attend to. I'll be right back."

I shook my head gently. "Stay with me, Ryou, just for a couple more minutes." I couldn't bear being by myself right now, all alone.

I felt his hands pulling themselves away, and instinctively I grabbed on to them.

"Just a minute, I promise," he said, leaning forward to kiss me on the forehead. "I'll be right back."

I sighed as he tugged away, and turned my face against the pillows, hearing the dull thud of the door closing behind. The room felt so empty...a stone prison of a tower.

Two seconds later, I felt my body engulfed in a strong embrace.

Shaking. Arms shaking. Voice gasping in my ear, almost whining. This scent...

I opened my eyes again, but all I could see was jet black hair, falling across my face, like a silk curtain.

"Who are you?" I whispered in disbelief.

With great effort, the arms pushed me away enough so the mysterious violinist could look me in the eye.

Incredible...what an incredible shade of amber.

I am dreaming.

So don't wake me from this dream.

It's him. I'm dreaming of him. Dreaming of the days that were, when our love lived.

A happy dream!

"A happy dream..." I whispered brokenly, pushing black hair out of the amber eyes.

"It's not a dream, Kahoko," came a crisp voice. "It's me." The voice softened. "Your Len."

"Len..." I pushed him slightly farther away, frowning, disbelieving, so I could see his entire face.

His concerned eyes, his shapely nose, his pressed line of a mouth, it was all there.

"Oh my god." I feel completely numb; my hands feel like blocks, my body feels like lead. I can't feel emotion, can't feel anything. Can't believe anything.

It's really him. This isn't a dream.

This is cold reality.

"You were dead," I said, suddenly and unreasonably angry, "and I buried you, in my heart. I burned my heart on your funeral pyre."

"What...?" Len's expression was pretty much as bewildered as you can imagine.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to mourn, really mourn?" I continued, shoving him off and getting unsteadily to my feet. "And to go through months of mourning like that, and everyone telling you, 'Just let go, Kahoko. It's not going to benefit you to hold on.' And still holding on...day after day, and this..._ache_...that wouldn't disappear..."

"Kahoko, look, I'm sorry, I know that you've been going through this. God, do you have any idea how much I pleaded with them to let you know..."

"And to try and try and _try _to get over you...! Because everyone was telling me to! To move on, find new love! And then, just when I'd finally managed..."

"What, are you angry with me?" His voice suddenly rose, nearly to a shout. "You telling me that...that...you've gotten _over _me, when here I've been pining for you all this time? That you've moved on...with _him_?" The last words really were a shout, and I did not hold back, either.

"You were DEAD!" I yelled at him. "What was I supposed to do? Wait for a miracle?"

Len flinched as if I'd hit him. "So he was telling the truth," he murmured, backing off and putting a hand to his head.

I suddenly understood why Ryou had been so willing to leave me alone with Len. He'd been so secure that this would happen this way.

Ryou is so cruel...

And in spite of that, I'm in love with him; I can't help it.

I turned away from Len, from the person I'd wanted so badly to see for so long, and pushed aside the maroon curtains to peer outside. The stiff corduroy nipped at my cold fingers, and a pain in my wrist reminded me of the bandage that covered it.

"Don't do that."

He shoved me aside and wrenched the curtains back together again. He stared at the curtains. I stared at the curtains.

We couldn't look at each other.

"We should head down."

"Yes," he replied woodenly. "Explanations are due."

Thanks, but I've had enough of those already.

Without another word, he crossed the room to hold the door open for me.

With every step back down those stairs, I felt my heart beginning an even lower descent.

.

"So, you mind filling me in on what's up here?" Ryou's face was unreadable as Len opened the door into the parlor, me following slowly behind. Detective McGraw had already disappeared, probably back to London. "We all thought you were dead, you know. I'll have to tell Hihara that hell didn't want you, after all."

Len merely sighed wearily and ran his hand through his creepy black hair. "You're in the same boat as me now, you know. How does that make you feel?" he asked grimly.

Ironic. Simply, purely ironic.

"Get over yourself," Ryou hissed at him. "Think about Kaho. Do you have any idea what she's been through these last six months?"

"Look, do you think I _chose _things to be this way?" Len's voice raised sharply.

"Len...Ryou..." I tried to intervene weakly.

"DON'T CALL HIM THAT!" they barked at me simultaneously, wheeling around with fire from mutual anger at each other directed at me.

Eeeek!

At my impulsive cowering, both their expressions softened considerably. Ryou rose slightly from the armchair he was is, as if to come over to me, but Len's glare made him sit back down.

"Look, I'll start from when you left me to go back to Tokyo," Len started, directing his explanation at me, though not his gaze. It was the first time I'd ever seen him with this pained of an expression; somehow he was managing to control it so that his voice shook only slightly.

"That evening," he continued, "I was practicing on the Guarneri, when I heard something making the body of the violin buzz. I started checking the bridge, the pegs, etc., and finally I noticed that the corners of the label were turned up inside the violin. I guess it had managed to pull away slightly, so I fished it out with a pair of tweezers, just for the time being, so that I could get it stuck back in later. That's when I discovered the writing. Curious, I looked it up online...I assume you guys did the same..." Ryou and I nodded "...and while I was in the middle of figuring out what was going on, my manager walked in on me."

I remembered the sharp-eyed woman discovering me in Len's bed on Christmas Day and shivered a little.

"Talk about invasion of privacy," Ryou muttered. "The hell?"

Len shrugged. "She did it all the time. I'd gotten used to it by then, honestly. I didn't know she was working for the Academy. Apparently she was supposed to 'keep an eye on me and the Guarneri'; she did a pretty good job of it." He smiled caustically. "She warned me strictly not to tell anyone 'for their protection', and immediately left.

"The next afternoon, after I'd finished talking to you, Kahoko, I was about ready to go down to the subway. Just as I started down the stairs, someone shoved me from behind, and I felt my violin case being ripped out of my hand, and also my wallet from my back pocket, by a guy of exactly my height, with my hair style and color, even similar facial features. The Academy had arranged for a look-alike to steal the violin so the Russian politician and his band couldn't inculpate them. Well, you can't blame me for being stunned for a moment. I tried to fight down the stairs to pursue him, but he got down before me and shoved his way to the front of line. Then I watched in absolute shock as he was pushed over the edge in front of the train..."

He shuddered and covered his forehead with one of his hands. "I can't tell you how sick that made me feel...In any case, I did the most reasonable thing that came to mind: I got the hell out of there, fled the country, like you two. I didn't want to go anywhere I'd be recognized in continental Europe, so I came to England and gave myself up into the hands of Scotland Yard. I didn't know they'd lock me up here for six months."

For the first time, he raised his eyes to my face, baring his pained soul to me. "I'm so sorry, Kahoko. I thought...if I called you and let you know what happened...you'd be in danger, too. If I'd known it would be this long..."

I closed my eyes and tried to quell the tears that were threatening to rear up. I know, Len. I know it's not your fault, and yet...

Nothing you or I can say will change what's transpired since then.

Won't change the fact that I cried out my heart in Ryou's embrace twice a week since then. That he's saved me continually, and never asked for anything in exchange.

That Ryou and I have been through more highs and lows than I could imagine, that Ryou feels like a second soul to me.

That Ryou has _waited_...patiently...forgivingly...for me to turn to him at last.

How can I go back on my promise?

I glanced up quickly at Ryou's knitted brow and set jaw. Yet when his eyes met mine, they were confident and secure.

He _knows_.

"In any case," Len tossed his head back and snapped back into his cool exterior, "enjoy all the free time you have to practice now. Kahoko, what on earth did you do to your hand?"

Um...I kind of sacrificed it to save Ryou...

"Easy for you to say," Ryou muttered glumly. "At least you've got a violin to keep you occupied."

"Oh, didn't I mention," Len's eyes took on a certain sudden Puckish gleam. "There's a grand on the first floor."

"Really?" Ryou ecstatically made an exit that would have made the Roadrunner proud.

Which left me and Len awkwardly filling the space in the parlor.

Shit, I feel like I should say something...

"What...what pieces are you working on right now?" I attempted feebly

"Korngold's Concerto and Bach's 'Gigue in D minor'," he answered starkly, standing.

"Oh, I see..." I trailed off, standing as well. "Um...should we join him?"

Len's upper lip curled slightly. "Since I can see that you want to."

Ooch...

He walked over and held the door open for me. Numbly, I started to pass through, but he blocked my path suddenly with his arm, inches from my face. Startled, I looked up as he leaned forward, until we were nearly nose to nose.

"I am not giving up, Hino Kahoko," he murmured deeply, eyes roving from one of mine to the other. "I've waited too long for you."

Then abruptly he turned to go.

I had the spontaneous urge to run after him, catch his hand in mine, and tell him, "I love you, I do, I always have, I always will..." Because deep down, my heart was still straining after him, longing after him, even through my shock that he was still alive.

But I killed that thought as soon as it arrived, watching him open and close another door ahead, listening to his footsteps dying away.

I can't do this...choose one over the other.

I owe too much to both of them.

.

By the time I reached the wood-panelled hall, the piano, sandwiched between a large, musty bookshelf and a sofa of a hideous pea-green, was being excavated by the enthusiastic Ryou. Len took a book off the shelf, sat on the god-forbidden sofa, and pretended not to notice, though watching him keenly out of the corner of his eye.

"Excellent! What a gorgeous Blüthner! Seven feet two inches, 1920s if I'm not mistaken. The Germans sure do know how to make pianos. Front, Center would love this." He ran a hand along the squat end and gorgeous woodgrain of the curve, and sat down at the bench, flexing his hands. He gave me a happy smile. "Ready for some Chopin?" he asked me.

Len's lips stretched into a barely contained grin.

What followed was the brutal, colorful language of a piano left to neglect and humidity for the last ten years.

Len fell off the sofa laughing, his book skidding across the floor until it hit the curved ball-like end of the leg of the piano.

Ryou's face looked almost as crushed as that time I'd told him I couldn't go out with him.

"Why...who would let a piano get into such disrepair?" he mourned. "It's like poisoning a child..."

"Now you get it," I said loftily, referring back to the writing on the inside of the Guarneri.

Ryou sighed and opened the lid of the bench, hunting for who-knows-what.

"If you're looking for a tuning lever, there's one on top of the bookcase to your right," Len offered, dusting himself off and arranging himself back on the sofa.

"Thanks," Ryou muttered, immediately reaching up. A second later he gave a yelp of surprise.

"Along with some rat skeletons," Len mentioned, mouth twitching vehemently.

"Look, I'll ASK for your help when I NEED it!" Ryou barked at him, procuring the lever and shivering slightly as he extricated his hand from the tiny bones. Then he asked meekly, "Do you have a tuning fork by any chance?"

"No," said Len, sticking his nose up in the air. "Why would I need one? I have perfect pitch, obviously."

"Fine, then, drone me an A," Ryou growled, taking the desk off and laying it carefully to the side, then lifting the lid and propping it open.

Len sighed and did as he asked. Ryou quickly tuned both strings to A 440 and asked, "Okay, how about an E?"

Len gave him a wicked glare and then droned again.

"Oi! That's a D, not an E! Who do you think I am?" Ryou growled. "Forget it. You _string players_ don't use equal temperament anyway. I'd end up with a terrible wolf and E flat major would be absolutely unplayable. I'll figure it out myself."

(Author's Note: This is friggin' hilarious if you happen to be a serious theory geek, like me.)

"Enjoy." Len got to his feet, meticulously replaced the book along the bare strip left in the thick dust of the bookshelf, and headed for the door. As he opened it, he looked back.

"Are you coming, Kahoko?"

I looked back over at Ryou, sleeves already rolled up with a determined look on his face, buried in the mess of pins and strings.

Len sighed as I hesitated. "He won't want you around while he's at it anyway, you know."

I know, but just _leaving _him...

"Actually, I'm kind of hungry," I lied impulsively. "Do either of you want anything?"

"Let's make lunch together," Len suggested, "spaghetti." He gave me a slight, knowing smile which I wasn't comfortable with returning.

"I forbid it," Ryou said, without looking up from the piano.

"Eh?" I looked back and forth between the two of them. Len's eyes narrowed.

"If you're referring to _that _incident, I will have you know I now know the difference between an oven and a stovetop, thank you very much. I've been cooking for myself every day since I arrived here."

"Oh, is that why you look like a Holocaust survivor?" Ryou put in sarcastically. "Besides, I don't really think 'Cup o' Noodles' counts, Tsukimori."

"Look, just because _you _like to sacrifice practice for learning trifling activities like cooking and such nonsense..."

"Children," I broke in with my best stern kindergarten-teacher voice.

The two of them shut up and looked over guiltily.

"Okay, now that I have your attention...Can't you guys mature a bit? Come on, Ryou, we've been together since high school, you've gained inches, why can't you grow up, huh? And Len! For pity's sake, you've been dead for half a year, you'd think you'd have matured a little...Sheesh...I'll handle lunch by myself. Where's the kitchen?"

"I'll show you the way," Len said, getting up. Ryou moved quickly to get between him and me.

"Directions will suffice, Tsukimori."

Glaring contest commences.

"I'll find it myself," I sighed wearily. "Thanks a lot, you two..."

They were still glaring at each other as I turned my back on them and scooted out of the room.

.

Once I'd managed, by trial and error, to find my way to the kitchen, the first thing I did was sink into a little ball against the closed door and weep bitterly.

I know how this is going to end already, and I don't want it to happen.

I'm going to have to break one of their hearts.

I'm the bad guy. The antagonist of the story. The role falls to me.

I ran my hands through my hair in exasperation, not caring that it was probably turning my head into a fluorescent rat's nest.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God. Oh my god!

Okay, let's get the facts straight.

Len is alive.

And I'm in love with Ryou.

What am I going to do?

Author's Notes:

Oh, goodness, what do I say...um...I'm sorry? Or not? One way or another, it wasn't my original intent to bring Len back from the dead. It really wasn't. I intended to leave him merrily dead and Ryou heir to the hand of Kahoko.

But when I was originally sketching out this sequel it seemed so dull and lifeless, for all the action scenes I tried to pack into it. So I was just like, "That's it, I'm leaving TSBN as it is, no sequel". It kept bugging me. Then I started to rewatch La Corda d'Oro just for fun, and I realized: I can't kill off Len! I just plain like him too much! Squee!

After that all the puzzle pieces of this sequel more or less fell into place. And now we have another wall to climb. Hehehe.

I have to make a little defense for Detective McGraw...he really is a good guy. He's just intense. He works hard at what he does, and actually he's very good at it, too. He has a long backstory, but it's not going to come into the context to the story, unfortunately. (I always create a huge backstory for my OCs. They don't live unless I do. I even give them blood types and hobbies. McGraw's main hobby, for example, is target shooting. He also likes polo. He hates TV, and his favorite food is tuna. He's 52 and unmarried.)

Oh, and by the way, it's probably as hard for me to keep from posting early as it for you guys to wait for it. Although sometimes I do have to rush to make my self-imposed deadline...


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

I used to think that being around an activityless Ryou was bad, oh astute Reader.

Now I understand that being around a bored, cabin-feverish Len _plus _an activityless Ryou is ten times worse.

Add into the equation the factor that each other them are restrained from killing each other only by my sole intervention, and you see now why I feel like going out to the Russian bad guys and hollering at the top of my lungs, "Just shoot me now!"

For instance, at this certain moment, as I was down in the kitchen putting away the groceries that had been dropped off earlier that afternoon, my ears were being accosted by Beethoven's Kruetzer violin sonata upstairs, and a Liszt transcendental étude downstairs. Neither player seemed particularly interested in playing any dynamic but fortississimo.

The horror! The horror!

"Fine, that does it," I said to myself at last, abandoning an open package of flour and marching out into the hall. "Ne, Ryou?"

Ryou's face, which had taken on a triumphant gleam of, "Aha! I won, she came to me first!" sagged a little when he saw the mad-dog look in my eyes. "E-e-to, something wrong, Hino?" Then, sheepishly, "Am I playing too loud?"

I refrained from shouting at him, "What do you think, baka?" and chose the more delicate route of rubbing my temples tiredly. "Can I suggest an alternative to the little cacophonous duo you guys have going on here?"

"Eh?" He cocked his head to the side. "I guess...what did you have in mind?"

"Be right back." I turned on my heel and marched up the stairs. What had seemed like an enormous distance the first day I'd run up them turned out to be a narrow, meager two-flight stairwell which didn't do squat to deaden the sound.

I barged in without knocking, so that Len, wrapped up in his own sound (have I ever mentioned that professional musicians are THE MOST narcissistic people in the world?), nearly dropped his violin as he spun around. "Kahoko...ah." Repeat the Ryou drill.

"Come with me, now." Without giving him a minute to reconsider, I grabbed onto his arm and lead him downstairs, where I deposited him in the musty hall next to Ryou's piano and glared at them both.

"If you're going to play, at least play something together," I commissioned them. "I'm really tired of this, guys. Consider _my _ears for a change, would you?"

The look of abject disgust that had crossed their faces upon my suggestion vanished into pity as I did my best to maintain my stance of authority whilst attempting to be the "damsel in distress". The look of pity, I'm sure, is because I failed miserably at doing so and ended up looking ridiculous.

After a moment of grunts and sighs, Len finally said, "Oh, fine. It's not like we haven't played together before. Are you up for some Sarasate today, Tsuchiura?" He handed over one of the scores he'd brought down with him from practicing.

Ryou's jaw clenched slightly as he accepted the score. "You sure you can take this, Tsukimori? I won't go easy on you," he said with a grin as he settled on the piano bench and flexed his hands.

Len lifted his chin proudly. "I can take whatever you dish out," he scoffed.

Uh oh. I may have awakened a sleeping dragon. Or two.

"Ready, Tsukimori?"

"Whenever you are."

I scooted around to the piano to peer over Ryou's shoulder at the score. Sarasate's "Zapateado".

Ryou lifted his hands to play...

Whoa, even I can tell that tempo is way too fast. Ryou cocked a daring eyebrow at Len in challenge.

"You sound like an elephant trying to tap-dance," Len shot at him before diving in, his bow flashing as fast as his fingers on the neck of the violin.

"Yeah, what about that piece you were playing upstairs earlier?" Ryou retorted, while I watched, mystified as to how he was managing to make his fifth finger move so fast on the repeated bass note.

"Korngold's Concerto," Len replied through tense teeth, his bow bouncing impossibly accurately for the stacatti.

"Oh yeah, Korngold's 'Concerto for Singing Mice'," Ryou snorted. "Enjoying five-thousand, three hundred eighty-sixth position much?"

Len ignored him for the duration of the simultaneous plucking and batting the strings with his bow, before coming down with a flourish, at which point he took advantage of Ryou's intermezzo to say coolly, "They're called _harmonics_, Tsuchiura. Not something a _pianist _knows anything about."

He then gracefully played the sweet melody of the middle section, Ryou finally discovering that creeping up on the tempo was beginning to give him a cramp in his left hand.

"Hey, turn the page for me real quick, Hino," he told me, looking a little worried.

I managed to whizz the page by at just the right moment and stared anxiously at the measures flashing by so I could get the next one.

"See, these things, here. _Harmonics_," Len said sarcastically, effortlessly producing pure tones by pressing only slightly on the strings. I felt the familiar envy monster start to prowl at his easy conquering of the technique I struggled so much with.

"Yeah, I got that, thanks," Ryou growled, and then, with an evil look in his eye, slowed down suddenly, purposely making Len take an extra bow at the transition, and subsequently making the million-notes-into-one-bow ridiculously hard to conquer.

Len, highly annoyed that he'd had to reverse his bowing for the section, took advantage of the series of sudden stops immediately afterwards to start the next measure early without warning, barking, "Too late!" each time Ryou tried to come in at the same time as him.

We're only two minutes in to this piece, and already I just want it to end...

"Hey, don't suddenly transpose up a tritone!" Ryou burst out, and Len, with a grin, resumed the original key.

Just before the recapitulation, Ryou began playing something I didn't recognize from the first time I'd heard "Zapateado".

"Oi, that's from 'Carmen'," Len snarled at him, "come on, get serious."

Ryou actually burst out laughing, keeping up with Len's increasingly faster sixteenth notes transition. "Serious? Seriously?"

And with a mutual grin, the two of them sped to the end, trying to overtake each other to the finish line.

"Not bad, Tsukimori," Ryou said, panting slightly.

"You neither, Tsuchiura," Len acknowledged, leaning into the curve of the piano and wiping his forehead lightly. "Although, I think the middle section could use a little work...Hmm...can we take it again from bar 40?"

"Sure," Ryou said, flipping a couple of pages back.

I cannot believe I instigated this...

"Have fun," I said wearily, backing out of the room, though neither of them noticed, already engrossed in the music.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to be able to play violin right now...

.

After about the fourth time that I jumped a meter in the air after meeting Len-the-long-haired-vampire around a corner, I had made up my mind. I searched the extent of the mansion high and low until I discovered, in one of the six bathrooms, a pair of hair-cutting scissors.

Armed with the shears, I marched into the kitchen and cornered Len at the sink, where he was getting a glass of water.

"You. Come here," I demanded, brandishing my two-handed engine at Len's head.

"Wha..." he began, bewildered, but I clamped onto the sleeve of his shirt and marched him out into the small courtyard that opened from the conservatory. Seven foot stone walls, remarkably sturdy despite their lack of maintenance, hedged us in on three sides, yet the song of a lark penetrated the protective barrier.

"Sit," I commanded, dragging over a dilapidated metal chair, and he, cringing slightly at the thought of rust on his white jeans, did so unwillingly.

"I suppose an explanation is unnecessary?" he asked sarcastically, wincing as I mercilessly dumped the glass of cold water onto his head and started running my hands through his clumpy locks.

"Long black hair equals emo. Emo Len is, quite frankly, too much. How come you don't have blue roots?" I mumbled, eyeing the jagged ends and plotting my course of action.

He sighed, expression wary as I began to snip away. "This is the natural color. When the blue started to grow out, I gave it the best cut I had because the blue tips looked horrible."

I felt my mouth open in shock. "You dye your hair blue? Why, in the name of..."

"Ask my parents, not me," he answered shortly. "They started it. Do you honestly think that that color is natural?"

Clumps of black silk were beginning to coat the grass-lined broken tiles at our feet like the feathers of a raven. "Well, what about Ryou?" I asked, ignoring Len's cringe at my bold use of the given name.

"Dyed," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Eh?" I sputtered, various world views tumbling to the ground amid the chaos of my mind. "A...and Yunoki-sempai? Hihara-sempai?"

"Both of them, too."

"Shimizu-kun as well?" I finished forlornly.

"No," he dead-panned, "Shimizu is definitely a natural blond. How's it going?"

"Fine," I answered with a little sad sigh. I wondered what Ryou would look like when his hair started to grow out. He'd probably be hot anyway, honestly.

"Careful around the ears," Len instructed me nervously.

"It's okay, I'm almost done. There." I closed the scissors with a clip and surveyed my work critically. For once I was happy that my mother and sister had both delegated cutting my older brother's hair to me. Though Len's hair was definitely on the shorter side now. Not as short as Ryou's, but still...

He ran his hand through it dissatisfiedly. "Great. I bet I look like a jock now."

"You're welcome," I shot back, brushing off his shoulders briskly. "Really, there's no need to thank me, none at all." I turned to go back inside.

His hand clutched at mine almost desperately, and slight pangs of pain jolted my left wrist as I jerked back as though on a tether. I paused but did not turn, both accepting and fighting the eddies of giddiness that were pooling in my lungs.

"Thank you," he whispered, and the heat of his lips pressed against the exposed skin of my bandaged hand.

The sensual warmth of his lips shocked my latent emotions back into being for a moment.

All those moments of his stark honesty, the deprecating comments about how much I sucked at violin, which made his kindness stand out even more when I managed to do something right...

The way his cold hands felt when they touched mine, countless times, to keep me from injuring myself...

The way he never gave me a break, always pushing me to become something more, to do more than I could possibly ask of myself...

Len, it's only because of you that I've managed to come this far.

Somehow, after your "death", that passion died as well. But I want it to live again.

I want to make music with you again, more than anything else...

He sensed my hesitation, and though my back was still turned to him, he rose and took two steps closer to me, his shoulder grazing mine slightly as his breath stirred my bangs.

"When your wrist heals," he said, so softly that even the lark stopped singing to hear, "I want to hear you play again."

"Will...will you teach me again?" I asked falteringly, trying to ignore the blush that was rising on my face.

He took another step forward and pulled my shoulders to face him. I couldn't quite match his gaze, though I tried.

"Of course. You'll need it, after all," he told me bluntly.

I smiled faintly up at him, managing a couple of seconds of eye contact before looking down again.

"Kaho? Hey, where are you?" Ryou's voice called from inside.

Len instantly dropped his hands from my shoulders as Ryou opened the door to the courtyard, his face darkening suddenly as he saw the two of us.

"Oh. Am I _interrupting_?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

I instinctively took two steps away from Len. "No," I answered, trying to hide my flushed face. "Did you need me?"

His mouth turned to a thin line as he continued to stare Len down. Then he grabbed my hand to pull me back inside.

"Yes. I need you," he told me lowly.

"The corn has hit the ceiling, folks," I said deprecatingly, more than a little annoyed at his tone of voice.

"I agree," Len said, closing the door and folding his arms in front of his chest. "You really have a way with words, Tsuchiura."

Ryou pushed me behind him and crossed his arms, too. "Do you want me to teach you another lesson with Sarasate, Tsukimori?"

"You teach me a lesson? Ha. Hardly."

Oh geez, not this again.

I slipped around Ryou and held my arms in a large "T". "Okay, that does it. I am officially calling a time out."

"Eh?" The ejaculation of surprise came from both sides.

"You heard me," I said, grimly. "Don't pretend I don't know what this is about. I am officially 'no man's land' until further notice. Got it?"

Uh oh. Their glares were now directed at me again.

Urk..."Um...I'm going to go...find a book to read," I faltered, turning.

"...Fine."

"Whatever."

"I will if he does."

"Ditto."

I snuck a look at the two of them and beheld disgruntled but determined faces.

Aww...they're so cute!

"Daisuki!" I jumped at them and grabbed them both into a monster hug. They attempted to avoid touching the other in our little group hug.

"It means so much to me," I told them, smiling. "Okay, we'll all get along together, right?"

"Hmph."

*sigh*

Oh well, better than nothing, I guess.

.

Weeks were passing like dew drops evaporating from grass, June giving in to July, the days becoming warmer and dryer, the clouds even lifting for a couple of days in a row to invite the yellow flowers covering the nearby hills to uncurl their petals for a stretch and gaze-about.

Len checked the flexibility of my wrist every day, and finally announced that soon I could start playing again.

And the three of us waited, falling into routine of working around each other. The days were full of practice and study; in the evenings, we usually holed up together in a room to talk. Len and Ryou were a perfect match for each other intellectually; once they got going, they managed to set pride on the mantelpiece for a bit and enjoy the challenge of debate.

The boys attempted to get a fire going in the huge fireplaces a couple of times; the first time afforded a five-minute, sputtering glow of no consequence, and the second time, we got smoked out so bad that we had to open all the windows of the study to air it out.

On one of those evenings, after the two of them had gone to bed, I was finishing up a round of cleaning with a final sweep of the library.

The light from the dingy windows dimmed as evening set in with a vengeance, casting long crooked shadows from the carved legs of furniture across the Turkish rug that spread across the wooden floor. I looked over the scene with a slight sense of satisfaction, brandishing my broom at it as if daring more dust to fall onto it. One room down...I looked out the door...a zillion more to go...Oh, for pity's sake, I'll do it in the morning.

In the hall was a small broom closet, filled with dust pans and dusters, polish and soap, this what, that what. I didn't particularly like opening it, to submit myself to its suffocating atmosphere and murky corners; still less in the mid-dark, feeling as though _something white and bony _was lurking in there after dusk.

Open it I did, however, and reached hastily in to deposit my domestic weapon before getting the heck out of there.

That was the plan, anyway.

A gentle shove from behind sent me sprawling inside to plaster against the back wall like a bug on a windshield. Someone stepped in and quickly closed the door behind him.

"Who...which one are you?" I asked, shrinking against the wall in the pitch black.

He didn't answer, except to step forward and plant two large hands on either side of my head, leaning in. The sound of fast breathing, mine and his, filled the heavy air.

His breathing got closer.

Much closer.

He let his lips brush mine ever so slightly, and then, as if unable to control himself, he pressed them hard onto mine, and as liquid fire traced the crease of my lips, I couldn't help but respond.

The air was so dense, I couldn't smell him...couldn't taste him...all I was aware of was his touch, taking my breath away, and regardless...who was it?

The kiss must have lasted a couple of minutes, at least, but it seemed like so suddenly that he drew away, still not speaking...

And as I closed my eyes to relish the feeling once more, he slipped away as suddenly as he had sprang upon me.

I pressed my fingertips to my burning lips, head spinning with confusion.

Author's Notes:

This is what I like to call "Schroedegger's kiss". Hehehe. So, which one do you think it was, eh?

I loved writing the hair cutting scene. I think it might honestly be my favorite from this story so far. I know we all put on our little caps of "suspension of disbelief" when it come to the La Corda d'Oro guys' hair, but well, this had to be done. It was just fun.

Oh, and sorry to all of you who read the first section with a "Wha..." expression on your face. This is basically one long joke about the love-hate relationship of soloists and accompanists. You have to be seriously talented to pull off any of these stunts, lol.

Finally, I feel like I should explain a little why Ryou uses both "Hino" and "Kaho" to refer to Kahoko. "Hino" is everyday use; he calls her this when they're playing around, or if he knows he's in trouble, or, conversely, if he's pissed at her. "Kaho" is more of when he's feeling sentimental, is feeling especially protective, or generally if their mood is romantic at the time. Every once in awhile, when he's got the "I love you and you're the only one for me" thing going on, he uses "Kahoko". Somehow I picture Ryou doing it this way. Len, on the other hand, switched straight from "Hino" to "Kahoko" and won't go back ever.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

"Here."

Len held out the violin he'd ordered for me with an oddly blank look on his face. I stared at it for a moment before taking it, the coolness of the wood burning into my fingers.

Suddenly I'm scared.

It's been over a month since the last time I was able to play. What if my fingers have forgotten what it means to make music?

What kind of sound will come out when I pull the bow across the strings?

"Don't worry, we've got all day," Len broke into my waterfall of perspiration and extraordinarily insecure thoughts. He folded his arms and looked at me with an expression that would make the word "expectantly" pale in comparison.

"I might recommend tuning," he continued in his monologue of "get the hell over yourself before I force you to play".

Automatically, I drew the bow across A string, wincing at its strident flatness.

"Ugh..." I withered in response, and instantly started to turn the pegs, carefully noting the perfectness of the 5ths.

"You always put so much concern into that," Len observed. "I can tell how serious you are by how you're tuning."

I smiled a little to myself, remembering my first lesson with Kumoyama-sensei. Not a lesson I was going to forget in a hurry.

The wood of the fingerboard was starting to warm under my hands, and the bow was starting to feel more and more indistinguishable from my right arm.

"Just try a G scale, two octaves," Len instructed me, "and pay attention to how your left wrist feels. It might be stiff, but if it hurts at all, stop immediately.

"Okay," I nodded, and began the scale, closing my eyes in enjoyment as the sound of the open low G reverberated in my body. How good it feels! Like the exhilaration after winning a race (not that I ever have...) or acing an exam (or that either...) or a first kiss (well, one out of three. It counts).

It took a few times up and down the scale for my fingers to start finding the right pitches. It was worse than performing with cold hands. But the best way to warm up hands is to play scales, afterall.

And then I started into "Ave Maria". I couldn't help it. I'll take a page out of Ryou's book of clichés for this.

The sound filled and danced in the expanse of the large dining hall (which we never used for eating), playing in the fine wooden rafters, seeking out the corners of the windows. I closed my eyes tightly to concentrate on the sound that was filling the air around me, hardly aware that it was I who was making it.

I've actually missed concentrating so hard on making my right wrist glide, pulling the smoothest, sweetest sound I could from the bow...and finding the pitches exactly, trying over and over to find the most beautiful notes and coax them out...

"Oi." I looked up, startled, at Len, armed with a handkerchief and coming for my face. "If you're going to cry, don't get the violin wet," he said sternly but tenderly, wiping my cheeks with the soft cotton cloth.

Remembering he was there threw me into a state of ultimate self-consciousness.

"Oh...sor...sorry!" I stammered. "That sounded really bad, I know..."

*sigh* "Have you been practicing _at all _since New Years?"

Groan. Back to this again. I keep asking myself why I keep submitting to the degrading torture which is asking Len to help me with my violin technique, but I haven't come up with an answer yet. Other than the fact that it really does help.

"I've been...trying..."

"Try a little harder, please. About the turn..."

He slipped immediately into the "tutor Tsukimori" I remembered from high school, going into details as far as you can in language, and demonstrating for me on his own violin where he couldn't express what he was getting at.

Somehow, I understand his violin more than I used to. All the little nuances I could never hear before...they were so beautifully clear, so tantalizingly tangible.

"Kahoko...oh for pity's sake, have you turned into a _fountain_?" He sighed and went for Round Two with the hanky.

"Don't you ever feel this way?" I demanded, slipping the handkerchief from his hands to release the fluids that were filling my nose.

He frowned, thinking for a moment. "Yes," he answered at last, "but only when I'm with you."

My breath caught in my throat as he searched into my eyes deeply. "You belong with me," he whispered in amazement, as if he had just considered it himself.

I don't know how to answer that...but somehow...

Something in my heart aches to play Ave Maria with him.

.

"That's enough."

"Aw, just one more piece?"

"No. Take a look at your fingers."

I let go of the violin to inspect the fingertips of my left hand. To my shock, they were dented deeply from the strings, almost to the point of splitting.

Len took the violin away from me, almost forcefully, and stowed it and the bow in the cheap violin case that had come with it, hiding it behind his back. "You still really want to play, don't you?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Yeeees," I moaned. "It feels like it's been forever!"

"It sounds like it's been forever."

OMG, you jerk!

"Stop giving me the 'Tsuchiura would never say that' look."

"You deserve it."

"Well, I'm off to bed," he said, studying my face.

"This early?" I asked. The sun hadn't even set yet. I still had some dusting I wanted to do in the drawing room. Darn building was so big, and without a violin, I was at the mercy of the itchy impulse to clean obsessively.

"Yeah." He sighed deeply. "Things have gotten awful _noisy _around here. I feel tired."

"Oh, well, sorry to spoil your cocoon of silence," I said loftily, closing the door before he had a chance to respond.

But for a moment I stood waiting by the closed door, listening to his footsteps as they hesitated for a moment, almost wishing that he'd open the door and come after me...but instead his clean clip turned and went upstairs.

Dumb Kaho. You should go after him, and you know it.

I know that...! But...

I sighed and headed down the long side hall to the drawing room, arguing with myself as I went. We tried not to keep the lights on too much, because we wanted to keep the impression that the building was unoccupied, but I have to admit that I didn't like the dark rooms with their various taxodermical wall-hangings and unexpected pieces of furniture that clawed at the ankles of the unwary traverser. Like the hall, most of the rooms were panelled with carved wood, which had the tendency to smell musty from lack of polishing (that is one job I will not undertake!), tall ceilings, and elegant, if outdated, furniture with lots of bookshelves.

I allowed myself to mutter aloud as I walked, just to fill the deep shadows with some sort of human presence, if only my own echo.

"Really, Kaho, the guy has been waiting for you all this time; you know it's not his fault.

"Yes, I know, Kahoko, but Ryou has been, too. Didn't you promise yourself that you wouldn't hold back any more?

"That was before I knew about Len, damn it! Shouldn't that change something?

"Would you really want to be the sort of girl who changes her mind at every whistle in the air?

"Well, isn't it just as bad to be inflexible?

"Well, it's too early to make a decision either way..."

"Something you want to share with the class, Hino?"

I jumped, my hand still on the handle of the drawing room door I'd just opened. Ryou was looking over figurative glasses at me from the love-seat he was seated on. In front of him was a mahogany coffee table with an embossed-silver tray of low-ball glasses and several bottles of alcohol, yellowing labels peeling off the sides. The low beams of light cast across from the tall westward facing window, shutters opened as if for a relief of air, caught in the amber liquid of one and scattered orange rainbows across his amused features.

"What...what are you doing?" I spluttered, a little lost for words. "Oh, Ryou, don't tell me you're this desperate to escape..."

"It's my birthday," he answered, "big ole 20 today. I always wanted to go out to a bar with friends, but lo and behold, I'm stuck here. Hey, sit here," he patted the plump cushion with faded floral pattern next to him, "keep me some company for a couple of hours. This is your fault, so pay your due."

I narrowed my eyes. "Oi, you be careful with that stuff."

He laughed good-naturedly. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. The one we should be worried about is _you_, you lightweight you."

I shrugged and joined him gingerly, trying to avoid touching him, although the cushions seemed designed to entice gravity to slide us toward each other. "I'm not that much of a lightweight."

"Sure you are." He winked. "I'd like to see you try."

"No thanks," I answered airily, eyeing the stuff on the tray.

He grinned. "Scared, huh?"

"No," miffed.

"Try a little."

"Pass."

"You totally are scared."

"Am not."

"Yeah, you are."

I huffed. "Fine. I'll try a little. Just a _little_."

He grinned and uncorked the tall bottle that sparkled enticingly. "Whiskey first?"

"Sure." Not like I could tell the difference, anyway.

He poured it slowly, amber liquid trickling weightily into the little glasses. "This could be a little strong." We lifted them together. "Cheers?"

"Cheers."

Watching for the other a little nervously, we simultaneously took a small swig.

The result was instantaneous.

"Paah!"

"Gaack"

We both set down the glasses, eyes watering, throats burning, and panted unbelievingly.

"A...little...strong?" I upbraided him. "Just _a little_?"

"Okay, I wasn't expecting that," he told me sheepishly, wiping his eyes with his hands. "Oh god, why do people drink this?"

"I seriously don't know," I groaned, "but I have the feeling being cooped up in an ancient manor for five weeks may provide some impetus."

Then we both laughed aloud.

"Try another sip?" Ryou suggested, and I accepted gamely.

"Not so bad this time around," I giggled after the second time. "It's tickly."

"Mmhm." He leaned back on the love seat, casually stretching out his arm around the back. I didn't mind that it grazed the top of my shoulders slightly. "You know, this isn't so bad, after all."

"What isn't?"

"Well, honestly, even drinking with a bunch of guys in a high-class bar in Tokyo wouldn't beat this...you, here, in a room of fading red sunlight, classic old mansion setting...It's like the perfect setup for a film-noir style murder..."

I squinted at him and poked his chest viciously with one finger. "That is NOT happening under my jurisdiction, Tsuchiura Ryoutaro. I don't care how much you two don't like each other."

"It's not that," he answered lowly. "Tsukimori and I could probably get on just fine...if it weren't for _you_."

"...This is my fault?"

"Yup." He grinned goofily. "All your beautiful fault."

I murgled disgruntledly. "I'll go for another drink, please."

"Of course, my lady." He made a mock bow and opened up another bottle of heavy square-shaped glass. "I think this one is brandy." The color, hidden by the shadows, seemed to be a dark woody brown. It smelled a little euphoric, and I couldn't help my curiosity.

"I think I saw some brandy glasses in the cabinet," he told me. "Be right back."

I watched him cross the room, opening the glass cabinet and rummaging around a bit. His shoulders seemed broader than usual, the muscles in his back creating noticeable lumps in the white T-shirt he was sporting. I didn't mind the view, honestly.

"Got 'em," he announced at last. "It's getting dark."

"Should I turn on a light?" I offered.

"Nah. Atmosphere." He sat back down and poured the pear-shaped glasses about a third full. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

…(gulp)...

"It burns, dammit!"

"Ha, I know, but it's a little thrilling, isn't it?" he chuckled at me. "Like a roller coaster."

"True." I grinned at him and took another sip. My vision was starting to haze a bit, and as I gazed up at Ryou, it didn't seem to occur to me that there was anything else in the room. Just him...and the smokey glass in my hand.

"You okay?" he asked me lowly, finishing off his glass and stretching out a hand lazily to ruffle my hair. "You look a little red."

"I'm fine," I smiled back, and shifted a little closer to him.

Pause. "Hey, Kahoko?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I like you."

"Somehow, that hasn't escaped my notice."

He laughed a little louder than necessary. I yawned, my eyes suddenly drooping a bit. My insides felt warm and sedated.

"Tired?"

"Nope," I lied.

"Yeah, you are." He sees straight through me. "Relax for a bit. Here." He reached for my shoulders.

I found my center of gravity unexpectedly shifting until I was staring up at his face, my head resting on his arm of the loveseat. Somehow, my upper body had managed to end up across his lap, and my legs drooped over the other arm of the couch. Um...I think this is starting to encroach on the "no-man's-land" territory...

Heeey...this is okay, though. Everything is okay. It's all good.

Happy butterflies are floating lazily through the air, scattering happy fairy dust on the happy meadow of daisies in my head. Whee...

I could just barely make out his face in the deep darkness. Hehe, I could pretend anything I want...I could make believe he's a pirate and I'm a captured lass on the high seas...

"Kaho? Can I kiss you?"

"Sure, why not?" I smiled.

He leaned over and placed a feather-light kiss on the tip of my nose.

"Oops. Missed. I'll have to try again."

This time his lips landed on my forehead.

"Not quite."

He then marked both of my cheeks, right under my eyes.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're doing this on purpose, Ryou."

"You think?"

He began working his way down and across until his lips met the corner of mine. Then he paused.

"Hmm...you okay?" I asked sleepily, taking his hand from where it rested a little too far up on my torso, and lacing my fingers into his.

"Yeah..." he said softly, "I was just thinking...I really want to do this sober, you know? I want a clear memory of your face after I kiss you for real."

"Aww...you a little tispy, Ryou?"

"A bit." He yawned as well and leaned back, letting the back of his neck rest on the back of the couch.

"Hehe."

That was the last thing I remembered from that night.

.

My memory of the following morning is considerably clearer.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"Make them go away," Ryou groaned, and I opened my eyes just a peek.

Oh, shit, crap, frick on a stick, damn damn damn...

Len stood leaning against the open door to the drawing room, with a look on his face that had something to the effect of, "Here's a little slice of hell for breakfast."

And the sight that greeted his eyes was: a table with two open bottles of alcohol and several glasses that bore traces of said drinks, Ryou lounging against the loveseat, and me asleep in his lap, hands still twined together.

Ryou and I both endeavored to become vertical. We succeeded about five centimeters each.

OMG, somebody turn off the sun!

"Argh!"

"Oww!"

We grimaced and covered our eyes with our hands. A blinding jolt of pain was shooting across my eyes.

"For the time being," Len's voice purred viciously across the room, "I'm going to give you both the benefit of the doubt and assume nothing happened. However..."

His footsteps (their loudness stabbing pain through my temples with every step) closed in on us, and I found myself being lifted into a bridal-carry.

"What are you doing to her?" Ryou asked in annoyance, as I opened my mouth to ask the same thing.

"Confiscating her. Clearly you don't have the _manners _or _breeding _to treat a lady with respect," Len told him grimly, and literally carried me off to my bedroom in stony silence.

Once we'd reached it, he laid me a little more roughly than necessary on my bed, and stood with narrow eyes and crossed arms looking down at me.

I would have sat up, but my head forbade it. The room, with its cheerful pink-and-yellow rose patterned wallpaper, white-washed furniture and east-facing window, was painfully bright. I chided the Kahoko of five weeks ago for choosing it. "Len...look...nothing really happened...it's just that it was his birthday, and..." I weakly started.

"Kahoko." His voice was dead serious. "Do you have any idea how it felt to walk in to that room and find you sleeping with another man?"

I gaped at him. "Look, I already told you...it wasn't like that..."

"I heard you the first time." He sighed and sat down in a curved armchair next to my bed.

Silence extended its silver scepter across the two of us. Suddenly, I felt extremely guilty, remorse marking heat across my face.

"Len...I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed yet again and looked outside the sunny window at the boughs of the apple tree, the tempting, hard little balls of unripened fruit dangling amid the leaves. Then he leaned over and looked me straight in the eye.

"Kahoko. I know. I can trust you no matter what."

I gasped at the intense sincerity of his voice. "...What?"

He reached over to push my tussled hair out of my eyes. "No matter what happens, I know you. I can trust you not to make a mistake that would affect 'us'."

The amber of his eyes was more alluring than the whiskey; the little wistful smile on his face glowed in the mid-morning sun.

"And what's more," he continued softly, "fool-hardy though it may sound, I know that I can trust Tsuchiura with you." He looked away with a very slight, begrudging frown. "Somehow, he can control himself around you better than I can. Why is that, I wonder?

"However," he ended the moment briskly, "You, Tsuchiura, and alcohol is not a combination I ever want to witness again. Besides," he sent me a little vindictive smile, "I think you've learned a little lesson this morning, mm?"

I groaned and scrubbed my temples in pain. "Hai, sensei."

He chuckled lightly and stood up. "Just this once, I'll make you a prairie oyster. Tsuchiura can make one for himself, if he wants. I can't guarantee that you'll like it, though. We have eggs, yes?"

"In the fridge," I answered, wondering what on earth a prairie oyster was.

When he returned a little later, bearing a tray with a glass of a foul mixture on it, I came to a full understanding of the saying, "The remedy is worse than the malady."

Author's Notes:

I don't know why I write these little scenes that don't have anything to do with the plot...they're just fun, that's all. I have never been drunk, and Ryou and Kahoko aren't either in this section, but it's definitely true that a couple of glasses of that kind of liquor does dull your senses and make you ridiculously relaxed...especially if you're a light weight.

Kids, don't try this at home.

Okay, I promise the plot will move forward soon! Purgatory in Scotland won't last forever.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

"Hey, Len? Len, Len, Leeeeennn?"

He arched an eyebrow at me from over his bowl of cereal, placing the milk-and-oats filled spoon back into the bowl with the grave dignity of Oda Nobunaga laying down his katana. "Yeeeeesss?" he asked sarcastically.

I plopped next to him in a chair at the tiny kitchen table and put on my best pleading look. "Can I have the violin back, please?"

He gave me an airy look of "Hmm, I'll have to think about it" for a moment before replying, "Will you be a good girl and stop after an hour?"

I pouted. "Only an hour?"

"For now. Tomorrow you can do an extra fifteen minutes."

Torture! But better than nothing. "Okay. Can I have it now? Pleeeease?"

He actually chuckled. "I have the feeling that if you took the marshmallow test, you would fail with flying colors. Let me finish breakfast, and then I'll come and work with you, all right?"

Yay! Violin session with Len! Happy happy joy joy!

...It was the day after waking up with the motherload of hangovers, and as punishment, Len had kept the violin from me all day long, ostensibly because my fingers needed to have a little break before going at it again. I think he was just still mad.

But the prospect of a "lesson" with him and his hard-as-nails instruction made the waiting pale in comparison. Especially since he'd promised to let me have a go at the Bach gigue he'd been working on.

"Note-wise, it isn't hard," he informed me half an hour later, as I was rosining the bow and tuning. "It doesn't even force you up into third position, except for the D at the very end. But that's why it's so cruel. This piece will punish you if your pitch isn't exactly accurate. It'll force you to watch your bowing, and if you aren't solid on legato over several strings, you'll definitely drive yourself insane. You'll need to be creative with the type of expression you use, and if you don't vary it and balance it properly, it'll be boring. Listen to me once."

He lifted his own violin which, despite not being a Guarneri or Stradivari or anything fancy, still managed to sound as pure and full as anything else he could play.

Upbow, and then he flew into the notes, dancing with the rhythm, tapering the phrases like a bel canto opera singer. So rich! He grasped the notes and pulled them out, teasing the twelve-eight rhythm into a string of colorful glass beads, slipping off and spilling onto the floor, bouncing around and chasing each other merrily.

The piece lasted barely two minutes, and yet I felt like I'd been on a journey.

"Okay, time to try," he told me, not waiting for applause, setting his violin back into the case and correcting my left shoulder yet again as I lifted my violin and settled it under the side of my jaw.

I looked down at the music he'd spread out on a make-shift music stand and suddenly the world was spinning. "Wah...it's so fast! I can't play like that!"

"Nonsense." His voice was crisp and instructive. "Think of them all as quarter notes. Play them one by one."

"O...okay," I said nervously, lifting the bow nervously. Upbeat on the A string, then down into a d minor chord...

The sixteenth notes crept up on me before I was ready, and I suddenly found myself fumbling for enough fingers.

"Slowly," he said over my shoulder. "You started with the eighth notes too fast. Just one note at a time. Don't worry so much about the bowing."

We went through the piece together a couple of times like that, picking out sections at a time and working through problem spots, and then once I was comfortable with the notes, he put on his serious cap and laid into my technique.

"Draw out that D more. Remember it's dotted. Don't hesitate before going into the sixteenths. Keep your tempo steady. That octave wasn't perfect. Why do you always play your thirds so sharp?"

"Do I _look _like Hilary Hahn?" I retorted after fifteen solid minutes of him picking apart each and every note in five different ways.

He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to _play _like Hilary Hahn?"

"Yes," I admitted.

(Author's Note: Hilary Hahn is my hero ^^)

"Well, Hilary Hahn did not get to be Hilary Hahn by complaining about not being Hilary Hahn, I can guarantee you that much." Then his expression softened. "I'm being too hard on you, aren't I?"

I gave him the puppy dog eyes look I'd mastered from Ryou.

Len sighed and smiled at the same time, shaking his head. "Let me be honest with you, Kahoko. Your technique is definitely not up to the standards I know it should be at. You've been slacking off, haven't you?"

"Yes," I admitted again.

"And yet," he continued, "there are things about your tone that have improved drastically. You feel the music more than you ever did before. Phrasing feels natural when you play it. Don't you think so?"

"Yes. It's probably thanks to my teacher, though. Kumoyama-sensei has been brutal with me," I said with a little rueful laugh. "But...Len?"

"Yes?"

I paused for a minute to try to put into words thoughts that had been milling in my mind for the last six months. "Catching up to you still seems impossible...and yet...I feel like I'm better now than I could have hoped for when I started."

"If you can do things now that you couldn't imagine yourself doing in the past, you can do things in the future that you can't imagine now." He smiled tenderly, and then popped back into business. "Here, when you start the set of eighth notes after the repeat, make sure that the timbre of the sound matches the first two measures..." He demonstrated on his violin again.

Somehow, it sounded even better than the first time he'd played it for me. How does he do that?

"How do you do that?" I murmured aloud, and he stopped playing to catch what I said.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Ah..." I answered, flustered, and suddenly at a loss as how to explain. "I mean...you just surprise me, I guess. The first time I heard you play 'Ave Maria', I could never imagine a more beautiful sound. You seemed to have already reached the pinnacle of perfection. But...it seems like...every time I think, 'He can't possibly get better'...you surmount that completely."

"You use really long words nowadays, you know that?"

Ugh...Usa, get the hell out of my head!

"To answer your question," he continued, "in my mind, there are two kinds of people in this world: Those who learn until they're good enough, and those who never stop learning. 'Good enough' is getting the job done for those who allow themselves to be satisfied. But for me, there will never be 'good enough'. There is only, 'better than the last time, and not as good as the next time'. Does that make sense?"

"Yes." In a weird sort of way...and yet...

Somehow, Len, whenever I'm around you, I find the next level of motivation that I didn't even think existed. And it excites me so much...I can hardly breathe.

"Can we continue?" I begged, anxious to continue to learn. Suddenly, improvement seems more necessary than ever!

"No. It's been an hour already. Hand over the violin, and nobody gets hurt." The little quirky smile he gave me as he held out his hand for my violin was starting to feel more and more like the "New Year's Day" Len of seven months ago.

Which is probably why I impulsively reached for his hand the moment he had laid down the violins in their respective cases.

His eyes widened as he felt my hands clutching his, and he turned to me with an expression of inexpressible hope that I couldn't bear to quench.

"Kahoko..." Within a second, I was in his arms, soaking up the warmth of his chest, my arms clutching around his waist as if he was a life-saver, feeling his arms fiercely wrap around me, and his lips kissing my hair, over and over again, searching for new spots to kiss as though he wanted to cover it all with kisses...and then work his way down from there.

Exhilaration...ultimate happiness...when was the last time I felt so alive? So at home!

I remembered the day I'd arrived at my parents' house in Tokyō, after leaving Len at the Shinkansen train station.

_Where is home now? _I'd thought to myself at that time.

No wonder I'd felt so utterly bereft. This is home, in Len's arms!

When did you become so completely part of me, Len? When did we start to fit together like key and lock, inseparable, useless apart from the other?

Somehow I could feel through the intensity of his grasp that the same thoughts were whirling in his head. Like sifting sand, we were settling into each other's feelings, laying aside all inhibitions and revealing all our hidden hopes and desires to each other without shame.

But suddenly his grasp loosened, and I looked up, confused.

His arms had only retreated enough to pull my face up to his and...

He was going to kiss me. The intent had formed in his eyes as though we were already locked in an intimate embrace.

His eyes were already glued to my lips. And my gaze was on his mouth, as well.

I want it...I know it...

But Ryou's face is rising, accusatory, from my memory.

I want this kiss so much.

But if I take it now, I'll feel like I'm betraying Ryou...

It's unfair to him to make my decision now, even though everything in me is screaming "I want Len, and that's all!"

How many times have I felt that way around Ryou, too?

I can't just throw caution to the wind and give in! Len will take all of me, instantly, consuming me, body and soul, and I know I won't resist. Not once his lips touch mine.

It hurts too much to reject him, though, so close to the consummation of all those dreams, for all those years!

And it will hurt him, too.

But,

"I'm so sorry, Len," I said, pulling away, evading his following hands that were pleading with me as they traced lingeringly along my shoulders. "I...it's not right, not with both of you here now. I...I need time. And space."

"I...see..." he answered slowly, backing off, though his face was still set in determination, and his shoulders were still tense and quivering, wanting me. "Then I'll just wait." He gave a small smile. "I can wait a little longer."

It hurt too much to return that smile, so I just said, "Thank you."

That was all I could do.

.

The week passed, and suddenly it was August, warm and muggy. Mold liked to settle in around the corners of the window-sills, painting them with merry patterns of green and brown and blue, that always made me jump back and scream when I opened the windows.

Len's face, whenever we met, reminded me of the almost-kiss, though when he coached me on technique, he always kept his distance, leaving the door wide open, as though he was desperately trying to minimize the temptation to take me into his arms again.

Ryou knew, though. His eyes narrowed whenever Len and I talked together in his presence. He could feel that something between us had changed.

Determination etched its memoirs into his face, deeply; I could practically read "I'm not giving up, ever!" in his eyes.

Needless to say, things were becoming a little too warm around here for comfort.

When you can't stand the heat...escape into the kitchen!

Here I will allow myself to petulantly rant about housekeeping for a bit. Please bear with me.

Housekeeping in a 18th century manor is not as romantic as you might think, naive Reader. I can attest to the matter.

The chores had been split up very neatly between the three of us on the first day, after Len had told us his story, and had since been negotiated in terms of capability until we were satisfied.

Cooking: me

Sweeping: me

Laundry: me

Picking up after everyone: me

Offering helpful suggestions: Ryou and Len

Now, I don't mean to sound whiny, but there is only so long that a lady can hear things like, "Kahoko, we're out of toilet paper in the upstairs bathroom again," and "Kahoko, I think the bookcase downstairs could use dusting," before said lady begins to feel slightly indignant. After a diplomatic discussion in which I basically told the two of them they could either help out or shove it, they prudently began refraining from offering said helpful suggestions.

But I have to say, keeping a big old place clean is dang _hard_. I thought of the good old days of soft, easy to sweep tatami and conservative use of furniture with longing.

The kitchen was the worst. Designed as the culinary headquarters for a large household and originally staffed by several cooks, I found the four rooms (kitchen, cleaning-up, larder, pantry) overwhelmingly spread out. Going back and forth between larder and kitchen got so tiring that eventually I moved all the supplies into the kitchen and crammed them on the shelves there.

Not that it helped much. If I wanted to bake something, I had to go clear across the room from the stovetop area. If I wanted to chop something up, I had to make sure I could get the vegetables and meat from cutting board to pot without spilling anything. I won't bore you with the details of washing all the dishes, either.

And of course, there was a scant supply of anything that resembled Japanese food, so between Len translating the old cookbooks for me and Ryou helping me figure out the vast array of foreign ingredients and how to use them, somehow we managed to feed ourselves with mostly-edible experiments for the duration of our visit.

Today I was attempting pudding and fresh bread. Not an easy feat.

Having wrestled with the proper temperature of water and killing three tablespoons of innocent yeast in the process, I'd finally managed to make a loaf rise, and, pleased with my hard-won victory, was letting it bake while I mixed cornstarch and sugar and began to scald the milk for the pudding, which turned into the tedious process of stirring over low heat and waiting for it to boil.

Thirty minutes later, I began to smell the unmistakable aroma of burning bread.

"Augh!" I looked helplessly back and forth between the foaming and ready-to-boil-over milk and the oven, unwilling to leave the stove, with visions of a massive cleanup running through my head, but determined to save the loaf.

"Here, I'll take over. Go get the bread."

A large tanned hand deftly took the wooden spoon out of my hand and began calmly stirring the pot. I looked up over my shoulder at Ryou and felt a happy little butterfly floating up in my chest.

Aww...Ryou. He's so sweet.

"Oi, oi, get going!" With a grin, he gave me a gentle push, and I somehow managed to slip on oven mitts and pull out the bread before it began to resemble a cast-iron brick.

"Thanks," I said sheepishly, coming back over to take over from him. "Saving me as always, huh? Lucky for me you happened by..."

A flush rose on his cheeks at my words, and he looked away suspiciously.

Ooooh. He wasn't just happening by, was he? My goodness, I seem to have a stalker.

Snicker.

"I think it's time to add the egg yolks," he said, looking back around. "I'll go grab them."

As he trekked across the kitchen to grab the bowl of yolks, I smiled a little to myself for no particular reason. Somehow, this is really fun, cozily chatting with Ryou to the smell of freshly baked bread and shoulder-to-shoulder at the stove.

"Okay, I think that does it," he said finally, adding the vanilla. "Now we'll let it cool for a bit. Any suggestions what we do while we wait?"

So saying, he leaned over quickly and placed both hands on the counter on either side of me. As I backed up in wide-eyed startlement, he moved forward and bent over to line his eyes with mine.

"Hey, you remember that night on my birthday?" he asked lowly.

"Yeees..." I admitted in embarrassment.

He leaned closer and grinned wider. "I'm sober now."

Now my cheeks were heating up.

Ryou certainly was more...aggressive...with competition.

Just once wouldn't hurt, would it? I owe him, after all.

Owe him for all those times I've said no. Owe him for the long years he's waited.

Somehow I don't feel guilty, like I did the other day with Len.

Besides, we've deferred this long enough.

"I'd like that," I whispered impulsively, throwing caution and Len's blind trust to the wind. "Kiss me, Ryou..."

I closed my eyes.

Passion. It's what has always made him stand out to me. Passion for music, passion for life, passion for me.

I thought I had already tapped into Ryou's passion.

I was wrong.

What depth, what intensity, what creativity and forcefulness, laid bare as a mountainside in winter, was revealed in the very gentleness and slowness of his kiss. Each time his lips caressed mine, they pulled away lingeringly, as if loathe to depart; and then they returned, a little longer, a little deeper, a little hungrier.

His hands spread across my back, drawing me against him, exploring the territory from my neck to hips, seeking out every detail, leaving nothing untouched.

That sort of passion...it was all I could do just to hold onto his neck and accept it.

The world, logic, care, and I were oblivious to each other, for one blissful, perfect moment.

Then the sound of breaking glass shattered everything.

I broke apart from Ryou in horror at the sight of Len standing there across the room, with a glass lying scattered on the ground, fragments mirroring the shadows of his downcast face.

Then his strangled, sarcastic laugh.

"So this is what you mean by 'waiting'," he said hollowly.

Author's (unreasonably long) Notes:

DUN DUN DUN (dramatic hamster)

Sorry this chapter is so bland...inspiration seems to be leaking out of my ears, so even though I scrambled last minute to get it done, it still feels like sawdust in the mouth.

Oh, don't worry; the rest of the chapters are better (I've already got about 50% of each of them written), just this one in particular was like..."Um...what do I write about? I know! Let's draw out the violin practice scene! Hahaha!"

Quite honestly, it's REALLY hard to write a realistic practice scene without making it as dull as a sea-cucumber used as a knife (don't think about it too much...my brain is dead and I'm writing really random stuff). If I were to describe an honest practice session, it would be something like this:

Thinks about music deeply. Reviews notes, complete with measure numbers, beats, and technique suggestions, from yesterday. Selects 3-5 measures. Plays through with specific things to work on in mind, metronome clicking. Stops. Considers. Tries again without mm. Stops. Considers. Tries again with mm. Moves on to next part...Begins to combine sections. Puts up an octave; breaks down into chords; reverses dynamics and articulation; changes meter and rhythm, puts back to normal. Plays from beginning to end, recording. Reviews recording; focuses on areas to improve; back to keyboard.

It's really, really dull. I mean, the process isn't, but describing it is. This isn't even going into memorizing, phrasing, harmonic analysis, research, comparing to other recordings...

Um...wow. PTD (Pointless topic of discussion).

Anyway, next chapter will be a little scary, so come prepared with a crash helmet and movie popcorn!

Arrivederci!


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

_So this is what you mean by "waiting", Kahoko._

Ryou's arms remained wrapped around my waist, a vaguely nervous but otherwise defiant glare in his eyes, as he turned to face Len.

Meanwhile, Len, having stepped carefully across the shattered glass on the floor, locked his anger-filled expression upon Ryou.

"Is there any explanation you care to give me, Tsuchiura?" he said lowly.

Ryou pushed me gently behind him and stepped forward. "It's just what it looks like, Tsukimori," he answered, head high and triumphant.

Len's eyes darted from him to me. "Is that true? Kahoko."

Ryou turned his head slightly to look at me over his shoulder. "Tell him, Kahoko."

Call me a coward, but I just couldn't stand there and look at the two of them any longer.

My cheeks scarlet with shame, I bolted out of the room, lifted the window of the larder, and slipped out into the darkness of the twilight forest beyond.

Inside, I could hear their fading voices shouting at each other and cringed. I should go back in and face them...but I just can't!

Oh, please refrain from raising a reproving finger in front of my face! Knowing what I should do and being unable to do it is punishment enough in itself!

I avoided the road that lead out from the front of the mansion, and instead followed a little sheep-gate down a rut of dead grass to the main road, which slithered through the ever-rising forested hills.

Rolling pastureland overlapped in the distance, interrupted by patches of summer-clothed trees, domesticated and yet uncouth, divided by tumbling rows of grey stones, and the unending, jagged patches of heather. Masses of slate clouds piled above like a hermit's long hair.

In land like this, one little wonders why the Scottish invented golf.

I kept walking, thankful for the Western habit of wearing shoes indoors, dizzy circles of regret chasing the left-over remnants of ecstasy from Ryou's impassioned kiss.

The mansion disappeared as I dipped down into a little hollow, and the sound of a solitary brook became the background music to my journey. Both of us, alone, urged downhill to meet the hidden bluffs of the sea.

The ruins of a squat stone fortress on the horizon extended its single four-finger tower to catch the sun, casting me in it's uneven shadow. The land grew suddenly cold as its warm benefactor retired for the night, cool humid air seeping through the short-sleeved white blouse and knee-length blue skirt I wore.

I walked a little faster to warm myself.

It's time to think, Kahoko.

That's what you're here for, isn't it?

Where does my heart really lie? What about my loyalties and convictions?

Shouldn't there be a solution? If I think this through, calmly and objectively, surely I'll have my answer!

Then I'll think through, yes!

...Where do I start? With Len, or Ryou?

I met Ryou first. Met his solid arms, clutching around my waist to prevent me from following the fate of the flying papers, fluttering down the stairs.

I think he instinctively drew a smile from my heart, with his lighthearted sigh of relief and willingness to help me carry those blasted papers to the music section of Seisou.

And then Len...

Admittedly, not the most pleasant of first introductions. In fact, if we had never met again, I'm sure my impression of him would still be exactly what it was then: Who is this guy, and why is he so completely stuck on himself?

But things had changed so quickly...with both of them.

Ryou has always been saving me, even when I wished he wouldn't. I've felt as carefree as a bird whenever I'm around him. Always so patient with my tears and pain; always encouraging, always there when I needed him. He has always been a faithful friend...and isn't that the tell-tale sign of a lasting relationship?

And yet...

My heart was charmed by Len's music the first time I heard his 'Ave Maria'. Perhaps it is only his music I'm in love with...but...no! I can't deny those moments of our physical contact, each time he broke through the carefully built walls of self-denial to become vulnerable to me. His heart is as sensitive as a dragonfly's wing, and I...

I betrayed that, didn't I?

This is all so obvious...why I am I bothering to think through it again?

It's no longer a question of who do I love, it's who do I love so much that I can't bear to be separated from him! Who can I bear to hurt the least?

Sometimes I wish love had never been invented!

My head is whirling like a hot-air balloon caught in a cyclone, and I can't even begin to listen to my heart!

All I can do is continue to wander, lonely as a cloud.

.

The sky became so dark, but not a single star. The moon brimmed over its cup of clouds, nudging them out of the way. It shone on the restless, dog-like waters, below the road, faithful to follow to the ends of the earth...or at least to the ocean.

This road meets no true end, does it? Yet I continue to follow, delirious, oblivious.

Why are the headlights of that car just behind slowing down?

And now pulling up alongside me?

And this sudden feeling of fear, of apprehension? Where did it come from?

The car that stopped just ahead of me flung forth its doors to admit two men, both dressed in black.

Oh kami-sama, I recognize them...

This is not good. Not good. Not good.

Run, Kahoko!

I turned like a spooked deer, splashing through the freezing shallow waters of the stream, and fled across the field ahead, toward the wood on the hill.

Don't let them catch me...oh, just don't! I can't consider the consequences if they do!

One is shouting ahead to the other, carelessly, as if I'm hardly worth the time to chase down, and one is all they need.

Just to the forest, then I can hide in the darkness...

...Or, alternatively, I can choose to run into this little low brick fence, keel heels over head, and land on my back on the other side.

Good going, Kahoko.

As I scrambled to my feet and prepared to dash off again, one of the men easily jumped over the fence and cornered me against it.

In the ghostly moonshine, the silver flash of a blade appeared in his right hand, speaking volumes.

Wait...no! Why?

In Kyōto, they'd used Rumiko to try push Len into the path of a subway train.

In London, they'd locked Ryou and me underground in a storage unit ,and buried us with cement.

But out here, there was no reason for them to be subversive.

I let out a little, gasping scream that nobody heard, save him, and he enjoyed it with a little laugh. Then he lunged for me.

It occurred to me, in that slow-motion moment, that they weren't going to kill me yet.

They still needed me to get to Len and Ryou.

Oh, there's no way I'm letting you get to them, you bastards!

Nice try, but you aren't actually coming for me with that knife; it's a feint.

That tiny margin of bluffing opened up his vulnerable spot, and fortunately for me, I've watched far too many of Ryou's soccer games.

All right, Ryou, I'll score a goal for you.

I aimed a carefully timed kick at the spot every girl knows counts, feeling no sense of remorse as the knife and its owner dropped to the ground, writhing. I didn't wait for him to get up for an encore; the other was already taking a running jump at the fence.

I turned and continued to run as fast as I could; the spiny branches of the pines reaching out to snag my clothes and scratch my arms and legs.

My feet warned me before my eyes that I was heading up a hill. And my pursuer was gaining, from the sound of his footfalls in the soft earth.

If I can just make it to the crest of the hill...! And Moon, gleaming faintly through the tops of the pines, please continue to illuminate my escape!

The moon obliged. The ground did not.

My feet met a particularly muddy patch, and I stumbled, gaining momentum downhill as I continued to slide on my stomach, straight to his feet.

He was on me in an instant. Literally.

I gasped at the force with which he pinned my shoulders to the damp earth, straddling me animal-like, turning me over to face him, gaining excitement from the terror in my eyes.

Faceless...a black silhouette against the haloed moon and spiky pines...a dark, Miyazaki-like monster...with iron-strong hands that held me down against the cold, slimy ground.

Someone, wake me from this nightmare, please! I don't want to find out how it ends!

I just want to wake up, gasping, in cold moist sheets, back at the mansion...safe, because that's where Len and Ryou are.

And I'd run into one of their bedrooms, and dive under the covers of his bed like a child afraid of lightning, until he woke up, grumbled a little, and asked me what was wrong.

Which one would it be? Ryou? Len?

But neither is here now.

It's just me and a corporeal shadow. And the mud under my bare legs is too cold for a dream.

His guttural chuckle said wordlessly, "I'm going to have fun with you first, feeling you struggle underneath me like a mouse under the paws of a cat."

He reached for the buttons on the front of my blouse.

Suddenly Len's face, muted by bright moonlight and falling snow, passed before my eyes vividly. Soft warmth, hungry kisses, strong, gentle hands. Light gasps of pleasure between the sound of crinkling sheets.

Fury gushed up inside of me, filling me with the strength that only a desperate woman can summon.

No! You can't have that! I won't let you touch me the way he did!

My right hand had fallen upon a hard, rough piece of granite, half-buried in the the soft soil. I let it close around the stone and flung my arm across with as much force as I could, aiming for his head.

The sickening feeling of hard rock on skin...

He collapsed, still half on top of me, blood from a jagged wound on his temple running down to mingle with the mud smeared on my white shirt.

For a moment I could only lie there and gasp for breath.

I struggled out from under his weight and started running up the hill again, hoping that I had only knocked him unconscious. Glancing back, I could see the other man's flashlight starting to dance in the dark forest below, recovered and out for revenge.

I have to get out of here before he finds me again...once is too many times for that particular scenario. I feel sick to my stomach...

And then all at once, the moon hit me full in the face. I'd reach the top of the hill.

On the other side, bright lights from a tidy village were sparkling like crystals in frozen snow, though its tennants had already gone to bed.

A little hill-sliding later, and I was safe on its long, narrow main street, crouching behind several broad-beamed barrels left out for show in front of a cheese-shop.

All I had to do was wait for morning.

.

The coldest hours met the dim gray light of the horizon, signalling the tantalizingly slow ascent of the sun, maybe half an hour in the future, depending on the mountains.

The village still did not stir, but I did not knock on any of its doors for shelter. Even if I could speak English, how could I explain the situation I was in?

I rubbed at the dried mud on my arms and legs a little, feeling it peel off patchily, and embarrassed at the state my clothing was in, caked with mud and appaloosa pattern of brown blood spread across my chest.

Perhaps I should have knocked, after all. At such a time, you don't think of how gracious people really are to a stranger in need.

The two men did not appear for the rest of the night, and for a few agonizing hours before that welcome, frigid gray, I wondered if they had discovered the safe house...and Len, and Ryou. Maybe they'd called in backups. I couldn't bear the thought!

I wanted so much to run back to the safe house and make sure that Ryou and Len were okay...but I was terrified lest I meet those men again.

Or worse, what if the boys came looking for me and met them out in the...

"Kahoko!"

"Kaho!"

Voices, seeming to surround me, near yet far, piercing the frozen air of the dormant village.

I stood up, straining to hear.

"Kahoko!"

"Kaho!"

I stepped out of my protective barrier cautiously and called out, sotto voce, "I'm here!"

I turned my head from side to side as I descended into the street, still listening for their voices.

"I'm here!" I called out again, and then, as if in the same heartbeat, they appeared around the corners, meeting the same road from opposite sides.

The sun started to rise, casting rays of gamboge orange, like a Buddhist monk's robes, across the shining tiles of the houses, lighting up the puddles running through the streets in long, narrow strips. Glinting off the hair of two talented, attractive, and very wonderful young men, standing and staring at me, with long shadows gathered into the dark skirts of the houses and shops.

That was the very moment the eternal Scottish fog in my psyche lifted.

Here's the choice...the worst choice I'll ever have to make. I can't just stay here and wait for them to come to me, in the end.

I have run after one of them, and I have to choose now.

The cruelest of moments. Because...

I knew my choice a long time ago. I just didn't want to make it. Didn't want to hurt him.

I closed my eyes and started to run.

Ryou...

I made you wait for me those years in high school while Len was in Vienna, promising friendship but nothing more.

I made you wait for my heart to heal, during those horrible months when I thought Len was dead, promising that eventually I'd be able to give my heart entirely to you.

I made you wait in the dark, buried in concrete, while I escaped alone, promising to come back for you.

And now I have to make you promise me you won't wait for me any longer.

It's like we were made for each other; we were meant to be; we work so well together, Paganini and Liszt.

I like you so much.

But I'm in love with Len.

Arms closed around me at last. I felt a sigh of relief emanating from him, and looked up with frozen tears.

"I love you, Len."

Always have. Always will. I should have told you much, much sooner.

Len's arms pulled me even tighter to him, and he pressed his face into the top of my hair.

"I love you, Kahoko."

"I love you!" Fresh tears were streaming down my face.

"I love you." He lifted my face to his and wiped away the dirt on my cheeks with his handkerchief.

"I love you!" My vocabulary suddenly seems to be limited to three words.

He choked on a laugh and pressed his forehead up against mine. "I love you. And we should get you cleaned up."

His sudden reminder of reality hit me with an electric jolt of pain.

I peeked out behind me, and immediately wished I hadn't. The sight of Ryou, stumbling backwards until he hit the brick wall of the nearby shop, burying his face in his hands, stabbed my heart with icy daggers colder than the morning air.

I'm so cruel.

Author's Notes:

...am not good at action scenes...sorry...

I'm so sorry, Ryou lovers! (Though I count myself among you...) For the record, _I _think Kahoko works better with him. But she disagrees. Complain to her about it if you like.

**Edit:** An "alternate version" to this chapter (and subsequent ending) is available, entitled "Meant to Be", and is Kahoko/Ryou. Based on a light-hearted suggestion from mocha. coca. latte.

And...yes. Despite my crappy action sequences, I hope this wasn't too awfully scary (I was scared while writing it...) This scene wasn't actually planned originally, and I still feel like it was a bit...cliché...more than a bit...but it would have been really weird to shoo off the bad guys without one final battle.

Well, anyway it's winding down now. Yay!


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The sun came out unwillingly that morning, pouring its warm golden broth over the bleak landscape, filling the ravines and spilling up onto the hill tops as slowly as possible.

A quick phone call from the local grocer telephone got us in contact with Detective McGraw, who immediately asked to talk to me and proceeded to read me the riot act.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? First off, when you opened the window on the train on the way up to Aberdeen, somebody tipped off the agents that you were seen in this area. That's how they found you. Didn't I SPECIFICALLY tell you not to do that?"

(Yes, Mother...)

"And on top of that, wandering out by yourself, all alone, with nowhere to hide, nowhere to run...You are EXTREMELY lucky that you weren't killed.."

(Or worse...)

"...and they could have found Tsukimori-san and Tsuchiura-san, and..."

"I'm sorry," I whimpered at last.

A long sigh, and then he slipped back to his crisp, business-like tone.

"In any case, fortunately we were tipped off as well. We've already caught the two who were involved, and it turns out that early this morning, Игорь Овчынныков suffered a major stroke and was checked into a hospital that confirmed he won't survive. So for all intents and purposes, case closed."

His voice didn't sound terribly satisfied by this prosaic ending to his murder mystery, but it boded well for us.

"For now, head back to the safe house, and we'll send someone up to fetch you, hopefully today or tomorrow."

*Click*

Subtle, that one.

We walked back to our cage in silence, side by side, so that even the birds in the bushes felt ashamed and quieted their morning gossip as we passed.

From time to time, I cast surreptitious glances over at the two of them, but Ryou's eyes were on the ground, and Len's were in the sky. They remained that way until we were back inside at the safe house.

Then all at once, Ryou wheeled about and faced me angrily.

"Again, Hino. How could you do this to me again? Huh? Are you really that cold-hearted? Does nothing we've been through the last four years count?"

I took a step backwards in surprise, feeling Len's supportive hands on my shoulders behind me.

"Ryou..." I started dizzily, not entirely sure what to say, but he cut me off by stepping closer.

"_Why?_ Have I _ever_ done anything to hurt you? Have I _ever_ let you down? Haven't I caught you _every single time _you fell?"

I wanted to take another step back, to avoid Ryou's face, red with disappointed fury, coming within nose distance of mine, but Len's hands stayed firmly where they were, though I could feel his pulse start to quicken.

"Ry..."

"Have you forgotten already? Exactly how ungrateful are you, you little..."

"ENOUGH."

Len's voice echoed eerily in the front hall.

"You stay out of this," Ryou ordered him. "This is none of your business."

"I am this business," Len retorted, stepping between the two of us. "Do you honestly think she would leave you if it weren't for me?"

"She would leave me for anyone, I think," Ryou gave a hollow laugh. "Woman. So fickle. So ready to get tired of her new 'toy' and run off at the first opportunity. Are you happy now, Hino? Huh?" he shouted around him at me.

I cringed and backed away. I'd never seen him like this. I didn't know he could even be like this. This isn't my Ryou. Who is this?

"You're being unreasonable, man," Len countered. "This isn't her fault, how would you feel if..."

"Reason doesn't have anything to do with this at all! You wouldn't understand! Do you have any emotions at all? Do you even know how to love?" Ryou bellowed at him.

Len closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Right, we'll settle this man-to-man, then," he muttered lowly, like a bull that hasn't quite decided when to charge yet, but definitely knows which matador it's going to skewer. "Kahoko, come with me."

"What...why...where are you taking me?" I squeaked in astonishment, as he grabbed my upper arm in a vice grip and started to walk me up the stairs.

"I'm not going to let you get involved with this," he said steally, face set forward and focused as we continued our march.

One glance down the spiral staircase told me Ryou's face was just as set.

"No...no, you can't do this!" I began to yell, as we crested the top and Len opened the door to usher me into the tower room. "Len, please...!"

He released me and closed the door as he withdrew outside, locking it firmly. I flew over and began to bang on the door.

"Len, no, please!"

Something in the tone of my voice made his footstep hesitate on the stair, and then he descended.

I pressed my ear desperately to the door, squeezing my eyes closed and wishing the situation had just never happened to begin with.

Their voices had barely risen to shouts before there was a loud _smack_, and a smash of glass. Ryou's voice swore loudly, and then there was the sound of a heavy chair being overturned.

No...how did it come to this?

I started banging on the door as loud as I could, wishing desperately that I could get down to intervene.

More obscenity, from both sides. The unmistakable sound of a vase going through a window.

I closed my eyes again and stopped pounding, hands flat against the door in despair.

Another loud smack. A thud of two bodies going down on the floor, rolling, trying to get the upper hand.

A shelf of books was overturned, the heavy volumes piling on the floor with the sound of breaking spines and flipping pages.

More smacks of fist on flesh. It sounds nothing like the movies, but I shuddered every single time.

Words, starting loud, then hushing down, lower and lower.

There was a long silence from downstairs.

At last, I heard footsteps coming back up the stairs, and the key turned in the lock before Len stepped in and closed the door behind him. There was blood coming from a corner of his mouth, and a nasty cut was showing through the white of his sleeve, but he looked satisfied.

"Oh, kami, Len..." I murmured as I hurried over and inspected the damage.

"It's alright, you should see the other guy," he said dryly. My eyes widened in horror.

"Ryou..." I made to go downstairs, but Len blocked the door with his body.

"Don't worry about him, he had his fair share of things to say, too. But first thing's first. I claim my prize."

He stepped forward and pulled me into a long kiss. The minutes strung on into oblivion as he released the stored-up passion of six months, and I reciprocated completely.

Oh man, I'd forgotten a kiss could be this..._hot_...

"Okay," he said, pulling away at last and wiping a little blood from the corner of _my _mouth, even as I leaned in again, hoping for another. "You need to talk to him, too, Kahoko. He has a right to know why."

I flinched. I had no reason, in all fairness. Logically, Ryou and I were supposed to be together. That was how it would be in a perfect world.

He was the white knight, and I was the princess. He was the "big man on campus", and I was his girl. He was the hero, and I was the damsel in distress.

Whoever wrote this story has got a few plot holes to fill in, dammit!

But as Len softly stroked my face, I knew...

As long as Len is a part of this world, I have to be a part of his.

"How can I hurt him like this?" I murmured bleakly. "He's my best friend..."

"Just go down and tell him how you feel," Len said softly, smiling down into my eyes. "That's all he wants to hear from you."

Drawing courage from his smile, I nodded once, and then, taking a deep breath, I descended the stairs.

.

"Ryou?" I whispered tentatively, peeking around the corner to the main hall. He was nowhere in sight. Sighing, I walked over to sit at the piano, and played the melody of Debussy's "La fille aux cheveux de lin" on the yellowing keys. He'd come back to the piano eventually. He always did.

As I played, the sun began to dip around the north-facing window and shone against the curves of the piano. Tiny dust particles hovered almost motionless, highlighted by the beams. It was like a moment carved in ivory, the musky smell, the age of the furniture, the polished bone touch of the keys, all outlined in pale gold. Ivory turns yellow if it doesn't see the light of day, did you know that?

It might sound incongruous, but it truly felt as though my heart was breaking. Maybe partly out of empathy for Ryou; maybe for the part of myself that did wish we could have been together.

It's not such a nice thing to have two wonderful guys in love with you, really. One of them will end up hurt. And it will probably be the one you want to hurt least.

I let my fingers mash into the keys and laid my head down on them, too crushed inside to cry.

"Your boyfriend has a mean right hook."

I looked up as Ryou entered the room slowly, sorely, grimacing as he pressed a package of frozen peas to the left side of his face. "I wouldn't have thought he could've held his own in a fight," he continued, as I scooted over on the piano bench to let him sit next to me. "But some demon took ahold of his soul today."

"Ryou," I began, "I'm so sorry..."

"Keep it," he said gruffly, squinting as he looked out into the sun. "I don't want your half-assed apology. But there. I had to promise to be nice to you, hard as it seems right now."

He sighed and looked down at the keys glumly. Sometimes I wonder if that's where all his solace comes from.

You're not alone in that regard, you know.

"I just want to know," he said softly, "what that guy has that I don't."

I couldn't lie, so I gave him the honest truth.

"Nothing," I answered simply. "There's nothing about him that I like more than you."

He made as if to look up at me, but decided against it and continued to scowl at the keys. "Then _why_?"

"I don't know, I just don't know...Ryou, I like you so much. So, so so much. You don't even know..."

"But you don't love me," he responded.

"No, I do. I told you so, didn't I?" He gave a little sniff of a laugh that had nothing to do with humor, and I continued. "I love you as a friend, more than anyone else. You've always been there for me, we've been through so much together, and honestly sometimes I wonder if you know me better than I know myself. But that's all I can offer you as things stand."

"I wanted you to love me only," he told me slowly. "Not just as a friend. I wanted your whole heart. I wanted you to belong to me. Here I am, using the past tense. I still want you. All of you, all to myself."

"Maybe that's why it never would have worked out," I mused softly. "It's like music. Isn't music better and better the more people share it?"

He looked up finally, with a hint of a sarcastic smile. "Bad analogy, Hino."

"Yeah," I said, after thinking about it a moment, "you're right, it is a bad analogy. But I guess the thing is...you're too strong, Ryou, and I'm too submissive. You need someone with a backbone, otherwise that other person is going to rely on you too much and end up fading into the background."

"Hino."

"Yeah?"

"Please don't say something like, 'Let's continue to be friends!'. It's too cruel right now."

"I don't care. I need your friendship."

He was silent for a minute, regarding the light that was beginning to overpower the delicate dust particles and forcing them to disappear altogether.

"You have it already," he said at last. "You can have my friendship, but it won't be the same."

I felt an acute stab of regret at his last words.

Of course it can't be the same. That other time, before Len and I had left for Italy, it might have been the same between Ryou and me. But we'd gotten too close since. There was no way we could carry on the same level of intimacy.

The knowledge hurt so much.

"Well." He sat up and flexed his wrists. "A parting gift."

I watched mutely as he poised his hands over the keys, and then, with a little sigh, started to play.

The notes came out hesitantly at first, but soon spun into a sweet melody, youthful and yearning. There was a slight hint at something foreboding...then it continued into depth, full emotion, peaceful security.

Love, is what he played. Love, in those last few measures, given freely, hardly expecting a return, just loving because love, itself brought happiness.

But then the melody changed. The left hand switched to triplets, while the right hand continued the steady eighth notes, with a resulting brokenness that intensified the sudden switch to F sharp minor from A major. There was a gentle respite of full chords in F sharp major, pianissimo, and then the minor theme returned, even more impassioned and pained than before...

The original theme started again, but was soon interrupted by discordant notes, gripping, eating away into mournful despair. The melody tried again, but gave again into the pain.

So it transformed. The same notes from before, now with a slight hesitation, as though the notes had to be dragged out of the keys, through a glass darkly, distorted.

But still in love.

Hopeless, but resigned. The melody wouldn't withdraw that love, even if it continued forever, unrequited.

I shivered as he played the final A major chord.

He let the notes die away completely, not lifting his hands or the pedal, and listened to the silence afterwards as if begging for echoes in the room to continue beyond human hearing.

"What was that?" I asked at last, when I could stand his silence no longer.

"Brahms' 'Intermezzo in A major', Opus 118, number 2," he answered almost inaudibly, looking far off into the distance, still hearing echoes.

"Usa loves Brahms," I mused, more to myself than to him.

"Does she?" he asked absently.

"She says, 'Brahms for agony, Schumann for insanity'. I never got around to asking her what that meant, though."

"It figures she'd take the other camp." Something that wanted to be a grin but couldn't bear to be was threatening to tug at the muscles of his mouth.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed deeply and sat up straight, stretching a bit. "Liszt and Chopin are known for representing the more 'avant guard' style of music from the Romantics, breaking away from conventional composition and writing more 'sentimental' music. On the other hand, Schumann and Brahms stubbornly clung to the traditions of Bach and Beethoven, working with counterpoint as it was represented by 'the old masters'. Schumann and Liszt, in particular, despised each other."

"Ah...I think I remember reading something like that somewhere," I said, frowning a bit. "So why Brahms right now?"

"You don't know?"

He waited for me to shake my head before continuing.

"Brahms and Schumann loved the same woman: Clara Schumann, the Hamai Misa of her time. No, better; possibly the most-revered female virtuoso pianist ever. Brahms fell in love with her while she was already married to Robert Schumann. Yet, even when Robert died, a few years later, she never returned Brahms' love fully."

"What happened to Brahms?" I asked, wincing a little at Ryou's ruthless matter-of-fact tone.

"He never loved again. He pined after Clara until she died, and then he died shortly afterwards."

"I don't think I like this ending very much."

Something about the resoluteness in Ryou's hardened expression frightened me.

"You...you won't be like that, will you?"

He snapped out of it immediately and tossed his head. "Of course not. Let Front, Center have her melancholy Brahms. I take after Liszt, the ladies' man, remember? So, following in his footsteps, I should have countless women throwing themselves at my feet, and I'll spawn dozens of illegitimate children by various princesses and countesses, before I die at an old age, happy, wealthy, and still ruggedly handsome."

I couldn't restrain a giggle. He turned his gaze back to me and allowed a tiny smile.

"I don't want to 'get over' you, Kahoko. But there's still music to be made. And if Tsukimori ever, ever hurts you, next time he won't win the fight."

"That won't happen," I assured him earnestly.

"I certainly hope not. Oooh, but..." He grimaced and bowed his head. "You don't know...everything, all of my hopes and dreams...are suddenly so meaningless. You were such a huge part of them and now..."

I closed my eyes and remembered how I'd felt after hearing Len was dead. It was like the future died, too, and I was cast adrift in a rudderless boat, on a stormy sea.

"I do know," I whispered. "And it's absolute agony."

He pushed the palms of his hands into his face and sat for a minute, shaking. So acute was my empathy that I could only sit there with him and not say a word.

Words are so hurtful at a time like this.

It hurts to receive them.

But it also hurts to refrain from giving them.

Somewhere, I feel like I _should _say something, that I'm not being sympathetic enough if I don't, or that I need to try to make it up to him...tell him everything will be okay, and he'll forget about me soon enough...but...

Right now he just needs me to listen to his silence.

.

Ryou is so forgiving.

It's the cruelest vengeance he could possibly wreak on me, yet he's completely and totally oblivious to the pain he causes me, sitting across the aisle on the train back into London, occasionally sending me a sad smile, even when Len, sitting next to me, wordlessly takes my hand in his possesively.

I gained something, and I lost something, since the last time I was in this city, bright with evening lights, beckoning us back for just a brief reprieve before we can return home.

Somehow, now that the drama's over, I feel a little empty. Like after a recital that you've been working on for ages, when you finish your last bow and meet the grim backstage, realizing _It's over. _And you better hope you did your best, because you can't undo your mistakes.

And me...I can't redo anything from the past two months.

What could I have done different, though?

I think back.

Look over at Len, whose eyes have not left me since the moment he realized "She's finally mine forever."

What was a bigger shock, hearing that you were dead, or finding out that you were alive? What hurt more?

Should I have been kinder? Should I have welcomed you back with open arms?

Somehow the very thought escapes my imagination...

Over to Ryou, whose expression, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of him, is taking on a strange determination, perhaps a new purpose?

Should I have refrained from kissing him yesterday? Why don't I feel guilty about it, even now?

Maybe I knew, even from the moment I spoke my ascent, that it was really _Thank you, and goodbye_.

I couldn't take that back for the world. Not the brief moment of your ecstasy. You deserved it, Ryou. I only wish I could give you more. But it's impossible now.

And...selfishly...I wouldn't want to take back my moment of happiness, either.

Len's hand squeezed mine gently, and he leaned over to whisper in my ear, "I love you."

Ooooh, but this happiness is far greater than that! I want to hear those soaring words over and over...

"I love you, too," I whispered back. "Even if you died a hundred times."

Ryou's snorted snicker from across the aisle broke our reverie.

"'Death cannot stop true love,'" he quoted, "'it can only delay it for a little while'."

"Tsuchiura," Len said menacingly, "do you want me to beat you up again?"

Ryou held up his hands in surrender, grinning.

I'm so glad that smile is still alive.

Author's Notes:

Oh, geez, Ryou is _too nice _for his own good. I feel somewhat justified because he was the same way in the manga. Not as much a good guy as Kazuki, but still far too nice to Kahoko.

Maybe it's not hugely realistic, this kind of reaction, but I would feel worse than Kahoko if he suffered too much at my authorial hands.

Please don't stop reading just yet! There's still a little more to come. Good stuff ^^

And one last thing...sorry I didn't reply to any reviews this week! FF . net was being annoying and not letting me log in. But I appreciate them A LOT. (Even and especially from "silent readers" ^^) So many grateful feelings!

Arigatou gozaimasu, minna-san!


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

Here we are again, staring at the chipping lime-green paint of Usa's apartment door.

"Hey," I said, pushing Ryou toward the door. "Would you mind breaking the news? I think she'd pass out if Len just walked in her door."

He stuck out his tongue at me very quickly, like a lizard testing the sunlight. "Why don't you do it?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Because if I leave you two alone, you'll kill each other, that's why."

"...Fine. One sec." He knocked on the door, and, after a moment of no reply, held his ear to the door.

"Is she not home?" I asked, frowning.

"Oh, she's definitely here. Rachmaninoff has never sounded so angry." He knocked again. "Can't hear me." He sighed and turned the door knob, the flurry of notes spilling out like blizzard snowflakes as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

There was a minute of pause as the playing stopped, and then a great thud came from within which made Len and me open the door a crack to peep in.

Usa, in her haste to get up, had apparently forgotten that there was a piano bench between her and Ryou, and as a result was now looking up in astonishment at the roaring-with-laughter Ryou from her awkward position on the floor.

"You're...alive...I thought I'd never see you again," she gasped, accepting his offered hand. "Where's Kahoko?"

"Coming," I chirped, waltzing in. Len followed slowly behind.

Usa turned pale as a ghost. "Oh shit. I'm dead, aren't I?"

Ryou, still laughing, planted her back on the piano bench. "We have a little explaining to do."

Len took a step forward and offered his hand seriously. "Hi, I'm not dead," he announced.

She took his hand and smiled unexpectedly sweetly. "Hi, Not Dead. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Yours as well." They shook hands gravely.

It took less than fifteen minutes to bring her up-to-date, mostly because the three of us were so tired of the story by then that we didn't fill in details.

However, the keen way in which her eyes flitted back and forth from me, to Len, to me, to Ryou, back to me, questioningly, induced me to clear my throat during the awkward pause that followed and suggest, "Um...Ryou, would you and Len mind making tea for the four of us? Without throwing mugs, spilling boiling water, stabbing with knives or forks or _spoons_, and otherwise attempting to burn, cut, bruise, or maim the other?"

The two of them looked at each other with the narrowed eyes that usually begin a catfight.

"Move," I ordered, and with a mutual sigh, they made their way to the kitchen.

"So..." Usa prompted impatiently when they were out of the way enough for us to masquerade a private conversation.

I squirmed a bit and then admitted, "I chose Len."

"Ah. Aha." She looked over with a slight pang of pity at Ryou.

"So he's all yours," I continued with an evil grin. "Take care of him for me, Usa."

"_What?_**"**

The high pitch of Usa's voice could easily put a piccolo to shame.

I giggled mercilessly at her reaction. "Kidding, kidding! Gosh..."

She set a hand over her heart, breathing hard. "Don't ever do that to me again, Hino Kahoko. I'm demoting you back down to 'amoeba'."

Now it was my turn to protest. "I thought I was up to 'hummingbird'! What the hell?"

Over at the kitchen counter, Len and Ryou had turned to give us strange looks. "Do you know what they're talking about?" Len whispered.

"Not a clue," Ryou answered. "Never a clue with _that one_. By the way, when are you going to get around to it?"

Eh? Get around to what?

And why is Len actually starting to resemble a strawberry?

"Oi. You. Person." Usa cast a sharp look over at Ryou, ignoring the question mark on my face. "You're making annoying noise with your mouth again. And what on earth is up with your hair?"

He ran a hand through the green tips he'd begged me to leave on his sandy-brown natural color when I'd trimmed it. "Like it?" he asked with a rakish grin.

"You look like a friggin'...I don't even know what. My powers of imagination fail me on this one. And furthermore..." she looked up at the luminescent red digits of the microwave clock with a worried look, "it's after midnight already. And I need to practice tomorrow morning."

"Me too," Len put in. "I didn't practice at all yesterday. I don't even want to think about how far behind I've gotten already..." He shuddered.

Usa grinned over at me. "He's got sense, that one. But that still leaves the question..."

"Oh, great," Ryou groaned. "We have to decide on sleeping arrangements. Again."

He, Usa and I cast irritated looks at each other while Len looked on bewildered. Then, with an expression of "I'm brilliant", Len suggested, "Why don't you stay here, Kahoko, while Tsuchiura and I get a hotel?"

"No," I replied automatically. "I am not leaving you two alone. Ever. One of you will end up dead, again."

"Fine then," Ryou sighed, "Len, you get a hotel and..."

"Absolutely not," the other replied crisply. "I'm not letting you take her out of my sight."

"Okay, why don't Len and I go to the hotel?" I suggested innocently. Ryou cast me a glare.

"Overruled. I don't care what kind of relationship you two had before, you're playing by my rules for now. Since you broke my heart, I'm calling the shots, Hino."

Len shot a "You will die" look at Ryou.

"I suppose the three of you getting a hotel together isn't a possibility," Usa put in, looking hopeful that we'd vacate her premises altogether.

"NO," we barked at her in unison. We'd spent far too much time in that particular formula already. It was not an experiment we were about to undertake again.

I sighed. "Fine then, I'll go get a hotel and you guys stay here."

"What, you want to leave them with me?" Usa squawked.

Four-way sigh.

.

And that is how, skeptical Reader, I ended up waking up in Usa's criminally hard bed again, her having actually curled up on the piano bench despite Ryou's warnings that she would wake up with a crick in the neck, and the two boys, backs stubbornly turned to each other, on the floor.

I stared up at the water-stained ceiling for the minute it took to climb the slimy ladder back to consciousness, a question nagging at my memory...something about what Ryou said to Len last night? Hm, what was it?

Stretching a bit, I peered down over the edge and saw that Usa was out for revenge, grimly writing "Egghead" in English across Ryou's forehead. What she didn't know is that he'd beaten her to the punch earlier that morning, so that she sported a little black triangle on her nose and whiskers delicately etched across her cheeks.

A groan from right below alerted me that Len was waking up. He blinked about seven times up at me before grunting, "Ow."

"Not used to the floor, huh?" I asked him with a smirk. Quite possibly HRH Len had never even lain down on a floor before.

Len watched Usa's operations solemnly. "Mind if I have a turn?"

Unluckily for him, Ryou took this opportunity to grace us with his conscious presence, and the very first thing he did was grab at the pen Usa was in the act of handing over.

"Give me that," he growled. She squeaked and scampered into the kitchen. He followed, complaining loudly and still grabbing for the pen.

"Good lord," Len sighed, sitting up and rubbing his temples. I wondered if he was talking about the stiffness from sleeping on the floor, or their antics. Either way...

"We. Are returning to Japan. Today," I announced.

"Agreed," he chimed in instantly.

"What, and spoil the fun?" Ryou asked, looking a little disappointed from the corner in which he'd finally cornered Usa. With their mutual facial decorations exaggerating their sad clown faces, the two of them looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Oh, grow up," I shot back at him.

"Why?**" **they chorused.

Len got up, quite stiffly, and picked up his duffle bag, heading for the bathroom. When he emerged, his and Ryou's eyes met briefly; Ryou raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Len nodded ever so slightly.

Ah, right, that was what was bugging me!

"By the way," I asked Ryou, "what did you mean last night by 'get around to it'?"

Knock knock knock.

A very polite knock. Gentle and well-mannered. Usa suddenly broke into a sweat.

"_Bonjour. Etes-vous ici, Usa?_**"**

"Crap," she moaned, throwing a look around the room, literally liberally littered with library literature, music, and the sleeping bags on the floor. "I forgot to clean up..." She stepped carefully over to the door and opened it the tiniest crack, saying something in English.

Her reply, whatever it was, didn't satisfy our Mysterious Visitor, who opened the door fully and pushed her gently aside to enter.

Now it was my turn to break into a sweat.

Oh, kuso. Why, why, why? I swear, I'm beginning to get absolutely gun-shy when it comes to hot guys. This sculpted, golden-haired specimen is a prime example of the entrants to my new list, "People I don't want to be acquainted with". It's not your fault, poor thing. Blame your looks, and my experience.

"Um, this is Jacques," Usa introduced awkwardly. "Relax," she shot over at me. "Like I said, he's not interested in girls."

It made me feel better, but Len and Ryou's expressions had suddenly taken on "wary" to the extreme.

Jacques' attention, however, was directed on the catastrophe of a room. A brief and frank exchange of words passed between him and Usa, and then he got down on his knees and began feverishly rolling up the sleeping bags.

Usa sighed and started to stack books back on the bookshelves. "He's come to abduct me for a run," she explained to our inquiring looks, "but apparently he's become side-tracked. Omae-tachi no sei da yo."

"You're blaming us?" I muttered, while Len migrated over to the piano bench to escape from the path of Jacques' cleaning rampage.

Ryou, however, intercepted Jacques on his way over to the kitchen and held out his hand.

"Thank you," he offered sincerely in English.

The blond blinked up at him, finally noticing him for the first time, and beamed as he shook Ryou's hand. Then he looked over at Usa with a wink, causing her to grimace and rub her temples in annoyance.

Ryou's expression went from "wary" to "red alert" and he stepped back instantly.

"In any case," he said to Usa casually, scooting back over to me, "I'd like to come along for one of these runs someday, if you think you can keep up with me."

"What do you mean, 'come along someday'?" I asked with a frown. "We're leaving today, you know..."

"Oh, yeah...I forgot..."

No, you didn't, I thought, watching Len's left eyebrow quirk upwards.

"Hey," I suggested, choosing to overlook Ryou's trepid "I'm hiding something from you and I'm very bad at it" look, "in the meantime, Usa, want us to serenade Jacques for a bit? You still haven't heard Len play, have you?"

Usa looked up gladly from her labors. "Yes. Can I accompany him? Thanks!" She sprinted over to the piano.

"Er...that's not exactly what I meant..." I tried weakly, as Len, shrugging, put up the score to Beethoven's "Kreutzer" sonata on her upright, and started tuning his violin. Jacques, meanwhile, looked far too happy to have Ryou help him clean.

Len winced a bit as Usa ran some arpessi up and down the keyboard. "When's the last time you had that thing tuned?" he scolded.

"The last time I had enough money to hire a tuner," she retorted. "Sorry. Ready when you are."

Len lifted the bow and effortlessly began the incredible set of double stops that started the sonata, letting the notes glide out and spin into the room. Jacques even looked up and let a smile spread over his handsome face.

Usa joined in with large chords, and Len, without looking over at her, said, "I want a softer touch." She immediately made the change, and then the two of them transitioned into the presto section, her leaning in slightly, eyes jumping over the score two or three measures ahead of the beat.

"Can't wait to see how she handles the next part," Ryou whispered over to me with a grin.

**"**Be nice," I whispered back.

He wasn't joking. Usa's shoulders hunched a bit in nervousness as she and Len flew into a crazy set of octaves and sudden dynamics changes.

"Relax," Len commanded her, without slowing his own tempo. "Tensing isn't going to make you play any better." She took a deep breath and attempted to follow his directions. Then she sighed in relief as a barrage of tell-tale open notes appeared on the following page.

"Oi. Gentler," Len said again. "Listen to me."

Apparently he's just hard on people in general. I don't know if I should feel hurt or relieved that I'm not the only one he picks on.

Oh boy. More octave craziness.

"You're behind again," Len said, suddenly stopping.

"This piece is the devil on staff paper," Usa retorted, pausing as well, and breathing hard. "Besides, what gives you the right to critique me so much? Tsuchiura's the only one who..."

She broke off suddenly and, avoiding eye contact with everything but the potted plant on the window sill, flushed scarlet.

Cricket. Cricket.

"And why is he the only one who can critique you?" Len asked solemnly.

She bit her lip, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights and was silent for a minute. Then, "Aha! Because he's a pianist, that's why..."

"Too late!" Ryou rounded on her. "Time's up! Answer invalidated!"

"Since when are you part of the discussion, eh?" she countered, facing him redly.

"Um...probably since you mentioned my name," he answered serenely.

"Not an excuse you..."

As Usa launched into her usual tirade of imprecatory adjectives, some in Japanese and some in English, and Ryou stood facing her with arms crossed and a smug look on his face, which just infuriated her more, Len leaned over and whispered to me, "Do they always get along this well?"

"Oh, they're doing pretty well today, actually," I answered with a grin. "I think they're actually starting to get used to each other..."

"NOT A FU**ING CHANCE!" they roared at us simultaneously.

Jacques said something in a sharp tone to Usa, who winced. I had the feeling it had something to do with her colorful choice of words. Yeesh. I don't envy you your job of trying to train that one into a lady, Jacques.

"Is it me, or is it a bit hot in here?" Len asked casually, pulling the collar of his shirt away from his neck. "I think I'll go for a walk. I've been meaning to see Hyde Park anyway. Kahoko, do you want to come?"

Usa's eyes dared me to budge.

"Sure, just let me get dressed" I answered glibly. "Have fun with Jacques, you two."

I would never forget that walk.

.

"Sorry to make you wait." Len huffed a bit as he came to join me where I sat on a bench by the shore of Serpentine Lake. As soon as he'd deposited me here, he'd disappeared for almost half-an-hour, which I spent slowly shifting from one side of the bench to the other in order to follow the shade of the tree above. My strapless, yellow sun-dress had no problem baring my shoulders to the tender mercies of the sun.

I stood as he approached me.

"It's okay, you don't have to get up," he said, flustered.

"No, I want to go for a walk," I replied, embarrassed and somewhat pleased at his awkward gentleman-ly-ish-ness reaction.

He relaxed and offered his arm to me with a little smile.

It's just the two of us, in London's Hyde Park, out for an adventure. Just as it should be. Us, exploring, wandering, discovering.

And, oh, Len, I love you so much!

The water of the lake sparkled gem-like against the backs of the white swans, drifting serenely along until they spotted someone with a piece of bread, in which case they greedily waddled out of the water and demanded a share.

Snobby women, almost topless, sprawled out on the brown sand, taking advantage of a clear day in London to gain a tan. The clop-clop-clop of a horse sounded on the track not far away, while the shrill cries of "Row! Row!" set the metronome for a gliding racing-boat, splashing away.

A couple of kids were snickering at the pose of a cupid-statue, raised on its marble pedestal, until their parents came over and started to scold them.

Len took my hand in his and wordlessly brought it to his lips.

The scene seemed very romantic suddenly.

"Kahoko...I have to ask..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. I waited patiently.

"Yes?" I finally prompted him.

He looked away as he carefully worded, "Why did you choose me over Tsuchiura? I mean...the two of us don't get along, but...don't tell him this...I respect him, honestly. He took the hard route. Rather than ensconcing himself deliberately into music, he embraced life as a whole. It's so much easier to concentrate on just music. I can't imagine how he does it."

"It's true," I mused. "Maybe he's just that way naturally. But, Len. I'm not going to let you get away with living in a cocoon, you know?" I gave him a smile. "I'll be your doorway, companion, whatever else. You'll just have to enjoy life with me. Okay?"

He smiled back and took my hand gently. "You're avoiding the question."

To the point, as ever. "Why I chose you, you mean?"

He nodded.

"Sou desu ka..." I blew out my breath slowly, looking out over the water of the lake, where long-legged row boats were skipping across the water adroitly. "Maybe it's because...Ryou accepted me for who I am, I guess. You don't."

He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it supposed to be a good thing? To accept people for themselves?"

I smiled, thinking about Usa when I'd taken her out shopping with Mio and Nao. "Sometimes. But, you know? I wouldn't be happy if this me, that you've pushed me to become, didn't exist. Ryou just would've waited for me, and been okay if I didn't change. He's always done things for me, always been there to help, to 'catch me when I fall'. But you've always challenged me to be more than me. You've demanded that I stretch myself more than I wanted to.

"That's why...I love you."

His eyes shone down upon me.

"That's all I wanted to hear. And so..."

He stepped in front and knelt down. A sudden bolt of electricity seemed to pierce me as I watched in shock.

"Ne...Len? What are you doing? Oh...my...god..."

The Mighty Len, you see, was getting the right knee of his white linen pants dirty in the lake-side sand. And pulling out...a red jewelry box.

Ne, what? What? WHAT?

If he hadn't been holding my hand tightly, I'm sure I would have panicked and run away.

I wonder if the moment before you die is like this?

Seeing all the experiences of your past flash before your eyes. Time slowing down, taking forever to get here.

Wondering, is this really happening?

It is, though.

The box is open, and the diamonds are real. And huge.

"Hino Kahoko, will you marry me?"

Author's Notes:

Yes, yes, I know. I fell into the classic "proposal" blunder. Unfortunately for me, it's necessary. Why? (little secretive smile) Guess you'll have to keep reading to find out.

I've actually finished the rest of the story by now, but I'll be continuing to update them weekly as usual. Only two more chapters left!

I actually have translations for you this week!

Omae-tachi no sei da yo: It's your guys' fault. (Omae-tachi is kind of hard to translate, it's kind of derogatory...It should be noted, by the way, that Usa tends to talk like a guy.)

Sou desu ka...: Is that so... (or) Well, in that case... (or) Since I have to... (this is another one that doesn't work in English very well)


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

"Hino Kahoko, will you marry me?"

Is this really happening? Is this a dream?

I peeked around to make sure the world was actually still there, and balked suddenly.

Oh shit, there are a million English people watching. I wonder if they'll know what my answer is if I answer in Japanese?

"HAI!" I practically screamed, "but shouldn't we wait a little?" I added quickly and more softly. "I'm still a teenager, you know."

Len's mouth was working into a grin as he pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto my finger. It felt heavy. Not just because of the physical weight.

"Yes, I know. It's...ahem...I really should own up." He stood and kissed me quickly, and the English people watching started to clap. I wanted to disappear. "Your _friend _Tsuchiura Ryoutaro made me promise. Something...er...about being old-fashioned."

"Ahhh..." I intoned knowingly, reaching out to crush him against me. "Good going, Ryou. I don't know if I'll kill you or kiss you the next time I see you."

"I wouldn't recommend the latter at any rate," Len said dryly, holding me as tight as I was him. If we got into a bear-hugging competition, I think he'd win. "As far as being young goes...yeah, I'm not really a fan, either. But hey," he pulled back a little and pushed my little straw hat back over my forehead, "it's going to happen, sooner or later. Why not now? We'll just get an earlier start on it, that's all."

It took me all of two seconds to see his point.

"And one more thing," Len mentioned as we started to walk back along the shoreline, the others around us having lost interest already and meandering away, "_he _insists on being best man." He made a face.

I burst into giggles. "Want to get him back? Let's pin Usa as maid of honor," I suggested. Then I had to rethink it. "No, that would be too cruel to Mio and Nao. Ah...but I really don't want to have to choose between the two of them...hm, who else? Nami? No, she'd take control of the whole thing and make me try on a million gowns. Mori-san? No, because she has a boyfriend now and it would be awkward with Ryou..."

"Hush, you're getting ahead of things," Len said, kissing me to make me shut up. "No, the most important question is what you'll wear the wedding nig..."

I whacked him on the shoulder, face flaming.

We lingered together until mid-afternoon, mostly talking about the future, and how things were going to work out. I was still unsure as how college would work for me, especially since Ryou and I had missed the first month of the post-summer session already. Not to mention, we had no way of knowing what Len's career would do when the world found out he was still alive.

Would we have to be separated again? Would I follow him to the ends of the earth? Most of all, what would my PARENTS have to say about us getting married?

Well...these things are important, yes. But far more important...

...is sneaking a look over a café table at him, and finding that he is already staring at me...

...is seeing the ring sparkle up from my finger, reminding me that I'm _engaged_...

...is thinking about Mio and Nao's expressions when I tell them...

...is wondering what Ryou and Usa will think when we tell _them_...

...or are they even thinking about us right now?

Cracking open the door to her apartment and peeking in when we returned, I seriously doubted it.

Jacques was nowhere to be seen. And the two of them were tangled in each other's arms. On the floor. Breathing heavily.

"Um..." Len said, suddenly sounding embarrassed, "maybe we should give them some privacy..."

"No," I giggled as quietly as possible, "I wanna see where this goes!"

I opened the door just a tad more, in time to see Ryou look up into Usa's ginormous brown eyes and say passionately, "Gerroff."

"I would," came her emotional reply, "but you're on my friggin' HAIR."

He grumbled and attempted to maneuver his shoulders off of her long ponytail. "What were you doing on the bookshelf, anyway?"

"Trying to get the Puccini score Jacques stuffed up there. By the way, you have a serious savior complex, did anyone ever tell you that?" She started to gather said hair and awkwardly tried to stand.

"Have you ever considered that you might actually hurt yourself someday, and that it'll affect your playing?" he shot back, getting up sorely.

She gasped as the sudden gruesome implications of getting hurt struck her. Len snickered next to me. "He's good, that one. Got her right on target."

His comment drew their attention to the door, where we were quite obviously eavesdropping.

Urk.

Awkward penguin moment.

Ryou cleared his throat at last. "Was your excursion...successful?"

I grinned and held up my left hand.

Usa actually squealed like a normal girl.

"Good." His face looked satisfied. "Although I have to wonder, how is she going to play with that thing on?"

Len's face blanched suddenly, and I knew that he'd suddenly realized he'd have to learn how to play with a ring on _his _finger, too.

"I'll manage," I giggled.

Ryou walked forward to face Len at an uneasy distance, and when Len cocked an eyebrow at him, he sighed and put a hand heavily on Len's shoulder.

"I'm counting on you, Tsukimori. Make sure you keep her happy."

Len scooted back a few inches and hastily brushed off his shoulder. "Of course I will. What are you, the father-in-law or something?"

Ryou shrugged. "Um, yes?"

"Look, I have a father, you know," I told him coolly.

"We should get going soon, don't you think?" Len cut in. "I really hope we can catch a plane out to Tokyo tonight."

"Amen," Usa agreed under her breath.

"Oh," I put in, "actually, we should fly to Prague first." I couldn't wait to see Misa-san's face when she found out Len was alive.

Len must have understood, because he reached out to pull me into a hug.

"Your mother's going to freak out when she finds out we're engaged," I whispered to him, and I felt his grin against the the top of my head.

"She'll love it," he answered.

Standing on the sidelines, Usa muttered over to Ryou, "About earlier...um...thanks..."

"Don't mention it," he murmured back.

"I won't."

"You better not."

.

"So, this is it."

"Yeah."

"Thanks for, um, everything."

"Not a problem."

Ryou's loud cough broke into Usa and my awkward pre-goodbye. "Can we go inside, or something? It's starting to rain."

I sighed as I looked out over the dampening London from the café outside Heathrow that the three of us had staked out while Len bought tickets and checked our baggage. "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd rather stay out here just a bit longer." I sent a little look at Usa.

She intercepted it questioningly.

I sent another, more obviously.

"Oh," she said, suddenly getting it, "um, I'm going to get some, um, drinks. Yeah. 'Cause otherwise you'll be hungry on your trip and that would be, um, bad. Yeah."

She exited stage right, leaving Ryou and I to hunch a little closer under the patio umbrella above the table and try to meet each other's eyes.

I feel like I should say something...anything...

"Unicorns."

"...Huh?"

"Nothing." I scratched the back of my head and tried to forget what I'd just said. "Ryou, hey, what do you think Hanada-sensei will say when..."

"I'm not coming back to Japan."

Briefly. Almost apathetically.

My mind spent a couple of seconds reeling on the Cliffs of Insanity before stumbling back. "What? You're...not?"

"No," he said quietly. "I'm staying here...for an audition to the College."

"But...what?" I managed at last, when my initial shock had died, and then the second shock had bit the dust as well. "I thought...you were going to stay in Japan...didn't you say, before this whole mess started..."

"For your sake, Hino. No, Kaho. Argh," he ran his hands through his hair, "is Tsukimori going get upset at me if I call you that?"

I felt my mouth twitch in amusement. "He's not here now, anyway. Go on."

"It's just that..." He sighed and stared off the parapet, looking down into the streets, busy with pedestrians in long rain coats and colorful umbrellas. "Back then you needed me, Kaho. I wasn't going to move on because you weren't ready. But now I realize...whether or not you're ready, I need to move on. And you have Tsukimori, anyway. Do you understand?"

Yes. Doesn't mean I like it, though.

We haven't been separated in four years, aside from the month when I was travelling with Len. And even though I know...I know that things would never be the same...

There's a difference between being without you, Ryou, and _being without you_.

I don't like it. But yeah, this is the way things have to be. For you to be happy.

I sighed a little and leaned out onto the balcony, stretching out my hand past the canvas cover so that the rain splashed into the palm of my hand. "I'll miss you like hell."

"I'll miss you like hell, too," he said, reaching out his hand into the rain as well.

In that minute, it was like the cold hands of the rain connected ours, one last time.

Usa, barging out through the double doors of the store with our drinks, murdered the feeling in cold blood immediately. "Oi, drinks," she barked, "and I'm going back in for the sandwiches. Be back in a minute." She disappeared back inside.

I watched her beeline-like walk with a small smile. "Ne, Ryou," I said softly, "I think she needs you, you know?"

He sent a disgusted look in my direction. "Nah, I don't think so, Hino."

"Actually, you might need her," I ventured bravely.

The next look he shot would have made a Gorgon turn and flee. "If you were any one but you, Hino..."

"Well, give it some thought," I said, shrugging, watching Usa bluster her full-armed way back out. "You guys are going to be stuck at the same school, after all. You can't run, and you can't hide. Muahahaha."

"Kahoko. Tsuchiura. Let's get going." Len reemerged in the wake of Usa and her tray, business written on his face as usual.

Usa's shoulders dropped ever so slightly.

Ryou sighed. "I'm actually...not coming right now."

Usa perked back up. Then she realized it and overcompensated her former dejected look.

"Not for you," Ryou barked at her.

"I know that," she said in annoyance.

Len's eyes moved quickly back and forth between me and Ryou, and I nodded quickly. "I see," he said. "Well then, don't have too much fun in London, Tsuchiura."

Ryou rose from his seat and offered his hand. "There'll be hell to pay if you don't take care of her, Tsukimori."

Len took the offered hand very warily, as if afraid Ryou would crush his hand in his grasp. "Work hard."

"You, too."

"You have to tell me that?"

Ryou smiled and shook his head. "Nope." Then he looked over at me. "I don't have to tell you, either, Kaho."

I swallowed hard to keep tears down. Usa, on the other hand, wasn't managing so well.

I reached over and pulled her into a hug. After the usual initial "Augh! Someone's touching me!" board-like sensation, she relaxed and grabbed onto me, too.

"If you hurt Ryou, I won't forgive you," I whispered in her ear.

"I can't guarantee that," she whispered back.

"Well, try to keep it to physical blows, then."

She laughed softly.

"Kahoko. Our flight leaves in two hours. If we don't hurry, we might not make it." I need an OCD tag for this guy. But I love him anyway.

I let go of Usa and grabbed onto Len's arm. "See you two at the wedding."

Ryou only managed to smile as Len and I entered the airport.

We've burned our bridges, haven't we? And now there'll be a lot of water between the two of us...

Even so. Thank you, Ryou.

We can finally let go and move on.

.

Loving Len means loving more than Len.

I have to match every ounce of love for him with love for music, and that...well, in the end...

Perhaps, beloved Reader, perhaps that is precisely why I chose Len in the end, afterall.

The more I give my love, pour it into him, and into the violin, the more the world seems to open up to me. The more serious I am about learning, the more fun it becomes.

It's really true that in order to truly receive something beautiful, you have to give up everything.

Do you know what practicing is?

This sounds like a tangent, but I promise I have a point.

Practicing is doing what you don't want to work on. It means making mistakes, and not just ignoring them because "you've got the spirit of the piece". It means ruthlessly rooting them out and eliminating them.

Practice isn't about playing all the stuff you can already do beautifully. If you can play it beautifully, why practice it?

Practicing is about failing. Because if you aren't failing, you aren't challenging yourself to progress.

Practicing isn't playing a piece through, from start to finish, and being like, "Oh, darn. I messed up that spot again. Oh, well. I'll get it next time."

Sounds brutal, doesn't it?

No. What's brutal is what happens afterwards.

It's going back to your old practice habits after awhile, when you get tired, or you just feel like messing around, and you sudden realize...Playing around just isn't enough. It's not fun. It's not fulfilling. It feels absolutely pointless.

So you go back to all the hard work, and the mistakes that come with it. And it feels _fantastic_.

My point? Hang on, I'm getting there.

My point is, it would be easy to love Ryou. He's sweet, forgiving, patient, great sense of humor, perfect in just about everything. He was completely devoted to me, and I guess I took advantage of that devotion, leaning on his strength when I felt weak, instead of trying to overcome obstacles on my own.

Loving Len, on the other hand, is hard. He's never satisfied, doesn't allow room for errors, is socially awkward and you constantly wonder if you're getting closer to him, or falling farther away. He forces you to stand on your own feet and continue running when you don't have any more strength left.

Gosh darn it, loving him is like practicing. It's hard work, and I keep failing.

And I can't live without it.

Well, in the end, I keep on saying, "This is why I chose Len, that is why I chose Len." But the fact is...I could keep coming up with reasons all day long, and they'd never be the same.

It's all those reasons and more.

.

It's June again.

Late morning light slanted in through the stained glass window, dying rainbows across the yards of ivory silk that spread out like pools of glacial water around me. Through the transparency of white tulle, I gazed at myself in the full-length mirror in wonder. Is that really me?

"You look like a princess." Fuyuumi-chan entered softly, bearing a tray with four bouquets of lilies and pink roses, and smiled her usual shy smile.

"You do, too," I smiled back, looking over the embroidered lavender silk of her gown. But then, she always looks like a princess. "Thanks for being willing to play for the entrance of the bridesmaids and groomsmen."

She fluttered her hands in embarrassment. "No...no, the pleasure is mine. I've always wanted to play 'Canon in D' with the same carefree attitude as you did during the second selection of the concours in high school. I feel like I can definitely play that way today."

"Ne, ne, Fuyu~umi-chan!" Uh oh. The voice of doom. AKA, Nami, peeking in with the heads of Mori-san, Mio and Nao stacked in the crack of the door under her.

"Can we come in?" she asked unnecessarily as the four of them waltzed in. "I want pictures of you all in the dressing room. You too, Fuyuumi-chan! No ducking out! And one, two, three...smile!"

I think my face will officially have frozen into a smile by the end of the day. I don't even want to think about what Len is enduring right now.

"Soooo, when are you and Shimizu-kun going to get around to it, eh?" Mori-san asked mischievously, hunting out the "maid of honor" bouquet and holding it proudly.

Fuyuumi-chan's blush somehow managed not to clash with her hair plus dress. Is this girl just pastel all over naturally? "Ano...we've discussed it but...there's still school and..."

Mio and Nao laughed sweetly as they sandwiched her in a hug. "She's so kawaii, Kaho-chan!" Mio said as Nao overlapped her with, "Hey, why don't you take a page out of your sempai's book, ne?"

Okay, that shade of red may be tinging on clash-dom.

"Ah, by the way," Mori-san said serenely, "I ran into Tsuchiura-kun skulking about outside the dressing room door. I think he wants to talk to you, Kahoko."

"More like he's planning on snatching her and running off with her on a milk-white horse," Nami said with a wink. "Ah, so romantic!"

"Thanks, but I'll pass on the romance this time," I deadpanned, leaving the four of them in the room giggling, and entered the hall.

Mori-san had been right about him waiting out here for me.

Oh. Damn.

When Ryou wants to look hot, he looks really, really hot.

Kuso, clear your head, Kahoko! Breathe...

"Hi."

"Hi."

Need to say something! And not "unicorns".

"Um...how are you and Usa getting along at school?" I ventured. Even though we'd talked a little at the rehearsal dinner last night, we hadn't breached this topic yet.

"She's a horrible person," he informed me smilelessly. "When we go to concerts, she likes to softly hum the cadence in my ear just before the end of the piece."

"...Anything else?" Hint hint nudge wink.

"No. She's in love with music, and I'm still not officially over you until Tsukimori takes you away for good."

I sighed. "Ryou, of all the silly people..."

We grinned at each other for a minute.

"You look...um..." He cleared his throat, and then blurted out, "May I kiss the bride?"

"Of course," I said, smiling tenderly.

He lifted the corner of my veil and laid the softest of kisses on my cheek before straightening back up and staring at me mutely.

Little droplets were forming at the corners of his eyes, beneath his quivering eyebrows, and when he closed his eyes, twin streams ran down his cheeks and collected along his chin line.

"Oh, come here," I whispered maternally, and drew him into my arms.

I let him cry there, crushing my veil with his face buried in my neck, arms wrapped around my ribbon-embroidered waist, until he stopped shaking.

The door behind us creaked very non-surreptitiously. We both sighed and straightened.

"Kaho-chan," Mio whimpered, "I spent _ages _getting that veil right..." She scurried over and started messing with the crinkled fabric.

"It's time to get going," Mori-san reminded us. Then she took Ryou's arm with a smile, offering him a handkerchief.

"Hey, you finally get to walk down the aisle with him," Nami snickered. "I hope your boyfriend doesn't mind."

Ryou's face registered shock for a minute as he looked down at Mori-san, rolling her eyes at Nami, and over to me. I guess even he can be dense sometimes.

"That's our cue," whispered Nao, as Fuyuumi-chan's clarinet sang from the stage. She and Mio targeted their respective groomsmen and whisked into the chapel.

Ryou winked at me once before he and Mori-san also disappeared.

"He's a good-looking guy," came my dad's voice from behind. "You sure you're not regretting this?"

I leaned over and kissed his cheek through the veil. "That door is closed already, Dad," I told him firmly.

"It's your turn, get ready!" Kanazawa-sensei, who was manning the door, whispered.

Time to take the stage again, Kahoko.

Salut d'Amor greeted me as the door opened, as Shimizu-kun's cello sang warmly, and Hihara-sempai's trumpet rang clearly, offset by Yunoki-sempai's sweet flute, and Aoi-kun filled in for Len on his viola while Usa took Ryou's place on the piano.

The air was heavy with the scent of the milky lilies that were tied along the tops of the dark wood pews along the aisles, and little pink tea lights lined the stage with their cheerful glow, though the sun filtering in through the stained glass wrapped my destination in warm light.

Misa-san and Len's father gazed back at me from the front with gracious smiles, and across the aisle my mother and sister winked and waved. Farther back sat my professors from school, Len's teacher from abroad, lots of graduated music students from Seisou, Ichi, guarding Hihara-sempai's bride-to-be Alice with a broad grin, Miyabi and Ayano, and there, with sparkling eyes behind her glasses, Wasahara Rumiko cast me a brave smile. If I were to name everyone there, it would bore you to tears, and, Ryou aside, this is a happy occasion! So no tears, anyone!

"Look over here! Smile for me!" Nami hissed from behind her camera, trying in vain to get me to look in her direction. But my face was set forward, toward the minister in front, where Mio, Nao and Mori stood beaming on one side, and Ryou, Ousaki-sempai and my older brother on the other.

As I took my father's arm and started slowly forward, everything faded out of focus.

Except Len, standing there, waiting for me with pride, his eyes widening more with each step I took toward him.

_Fine._


	20. Epilogue

Epilogue:

_A little less than two years down the road_

"Pianissimo! Oi, Front, Center, did you even read the music?"

I dodged the swipe of Tsuchiura's hand to my head and elbowed him in the gut for a counterstrike.

"It's the middle of the phrase, you prat. We have to make some change of dynamics or it'll fall flat. Look here," I pointed in the score, ignoring his daggers-for-eyes, "it's clearly indicated at the C sharp I play, at the climax of the phrase, 'un poco mosso'."

"You know as well as I do that means 'more motion', not 'louder'. Or do you not even know that much?" he insinuated slyly, whacking my hand none-too-gently out of the way.

"Ow," I winced, pulling back the offended hand and rubbing it gingerly. His eyes widened, and he instantly adopted an attitude of penitence.

"Sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you...is your hand okay?" he asked gently, grabbing my hand to inspect it.

"None of your business," I snarled, attempting to pull it back, but he held it steadily.

"It _is _my business to make sure my partner doesn't get hurt," he tossed in my direction. "After all, I don't want to lose this 'four-hands one-piano' competition because of _you_."

"Psh. My hands will be fine, as long as _you _keep _yours _on _your _side of the piano."

He released my hand with an air of "my hands are clean of the matter" and turned the page back to the beginning of the movement. "Blame Schubert if you will. It's not my fault the man enjoyed playing these pieces with young ladies of his acquaintance."

"And whose idea was it to choose this piece, anyway?" I pressed.

Tsuchiura sighed. "You know the answer to that as much as I do."

I hate to say it, but it was both of our faults. Having scoured the scores to half-a-dozen duets together, and having eliminated each by default of neither giving in to the other's opinion, the only piece we could agree on was Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody #2...Victor Borge style.

Not exactly contest material. But we had fun trying it out, anyway. I especially liked sitting on the piano keys and slamming the key cover on his hands.

Nevertheless, this left us in a quandary as to exactly WHAT piece we were going to play.

After arguing to the point of declaring we'd never speak to each other again and Tsuchiura actually going so far as to remove his set of "Grove's New Dictionary of Music and Musicians" from my apartment, Jacques called us together for a peace treaty over café au lait and crème brûlée and sent us off to settle our differences at the Tate art museum.

The instant we'd gotten inside, we sprinted in opposite directions, me for the Pre-Raphaelites and him for the modernists, and tried to forget we knew the other person at all.**  
><strong>**  
><strong>As I gazed in awe at Waterhouse's "The Lady of Shallot", it came on softly over the speakers: the perfect piano duet.

Stormy. Moody. A perfect combination of wistful melody with the militaristic dotted eighth-sixteenth rhythm. Classic Schubert.

I abandoned "Ophelia" and "Ellen Terry as Lady MacBeth" and "The Awakening of Conscience" a bit regretfully and went hunting for Tsuchiura.

When I finally spied him, his face was sparkling with excitement, and he came for me eagerly.

**"**Oi, I've got it! The perfect piano duet!"

**"**Schubert's 'Fantasie in F minor'!"

I can't remember who said what, maybe we said them at the same time.

But the point is that we looked at each other for a minute, stunned, and then started laughing.

A security guard in the corner coughed loudly and purposefully in our direction.

**"**Shh, shh," I giggled at Tsuchiura, "you're going to get us kicked out."

**"**I'm going to get us kicked out?" he chuckled back. Then he cleared his throat and stood up solemnly. "Okay. We're here for art. So, here we are, in front of the lovely..."

We gazed at the picture in front of us in horror, mouths open slightly.

Lucian Freud's "Naked Portrait".

Tick, tick, tick, went Tsuchiura's wristwatch.

**"**Let's move on," he whispered, falsetto, and I could only nod in ascent.

So that was the end of that.

We'd bought the scores and practiced our parts separately, satisfied that _this _was the piece that would win the competition...and the accompanying cash prize of 5000 euros. Which seemed like tiddlywinks next to school tuition, but every little bit helped**.**

Then came the shock, when we'd finally put the piece together.

Tsuchiura cleared his throat next to me. "Excuse me? Do you need an invitation to start?"

"No. I'm ready, whatever. Let's just play already."

We lifted our hands to the keys, me in the treble and him in the bass, and in one breath, began to play.

Twirling, swirling, mingling melodies, intertwining, the contrapunctal subjects and countersubjects chasing each other and crossing like butterflies over a shallow pool of water. We met the phrases with the same objective, summitting the crescendos and cascading into the arpessios. Hands meeting, jumping over each other, passing on to the other, intermingling like the notes.

Then came the awful moment when my left hand and his right had to play a set of chords, my fourth and little fingers under his. Given the tempo, there really wasn't any chance for us. We were doomed.

I concentrated on the sheet music to ignore the fact that his face was burning red under his bronzed tan, as the outer palm of his hand pressed against mine. And also to try to forget that my own cheeks were on fire.

We ended with a gasp, realizing the cadence at exactly the same time, and lifted our hands from the keyboard, glad to be out of each other's clef.

Gorgeous...the music had been absolutely wonderful.

"Eh, it was okay," I said off-handedly.

He also shrugged. "Yeah, we need more practice."

He flipped back to the first page. "Ready?"

I put all dizzy, giddy thoughts out of my head and concentrated on the 88 white and black keys.

"Ready."

I'll never forgive Kahoko for sticking me with this guy.

But maybe someday I'll forgive myself for being okay with it.

.

"That haircut looks good, Kahoko."

I looked up from Leopold Mozart's book on violin technique in astonishment. My eyes met Len's gently smiling face as he entered the kitchen, heading for the hotpot, the sole designated "Len safe" area in the room.

Wow, he'd noticed after it had been only been a week since I'd cut my hair. This had to be a record.

**"**How is your studying going?" he continued, taking down a teapot and putting in three teabags, even though it only needed one.

**"**Um...fine," I said, ignoring the little voice inside that was reminding me of my recent low score on a theory paper. I think I'll just send out the next one to Usa and have her write it instead. "How was your rehearsal with the Prague Philharmonic? Oh, and when are you leaving for the tour in Singapore? I'll miss you..."

**"**Don't worry, it's only two weeks," he said.

I sighed. "I never get to see enough of you."

The tenderness in his eyes cancelled out his crisp reply. "You knew it would be like this when we decided to get married, Kahoko. Besides, it's just until you graduate from the Conservatory. Then I'll take you with me everywhere."

**"**And I'll have to learn new languages again, just when I'd gotten the hang of Czech," I groaned.

"How's my old violin treating you?"

I smiled and reached down to touch the case at my feet. In the end, Len had given me the violin he'd used since he was in junior high; the one he'd played through the first concours. I missed Mahou, but magic isn't in the violin, after all. It's in the violinist's fingers.

"We're friends now," I assured him.

**"**Are you getting along with your teacher?"

I shrugged a little, thinking of my violin teacher, who resembled Kumoyama-sensei in sensitivity, lacking a bit of the nostalgic gentleness. "Yes, but I like your lessons better."

He laughed very quietly. "You are a serious glutton for punishment." He poured water into the teapot, managing to get half of it on the counter as well, and looked proud of his accomplishment.

Hm...maybe I really should handle the tea from now on...

"And the Franck violin sonata?" he continued in his "Let's grill Kahoko!" string of questions.

I giggled a little. "My accompanist hates me," I informed him.

"As well he should," he said with a grin. "I think the next time I see Tsuchiura, I'll lay that one on him."

Yes, lovely Reader, the soloist-accompanist jokes will continue forever. But in the end, neither of us can really survive without the other. That's the beauty of chamber music.

There was silence in the kitchen except for the tink tink of the teapot lid as Len removed it and replaced it four times, anxiously checking to make sure the tea was, in fact, steeping. I think I'll avoid this cup of tea, somehow.

"Len," I asked suddenly, "when do you want kids?"

His open mouthed expression caught me as hilarious. "What do you mean, 'when'? You're not pregnant, are you?" he managed at last.

"No," I smothered a smile. "I was just wondering, you know."

He ignored the pot and flooded counter to face me fully.

"Well," he said, "that's really up to you, you know."

"Eh?" I tilted my head slightly. Up to me?

He shrugged. "You know your career is going to be affected if we have kids," he reasoned. "I don't want you to have to interrupt your music until you're ready."

"Your mother seemed to manage," I said. "Even though she had you, she still continued her career."

"Sometimes I wish she hadn't," he said quietly. "I missed so much time with her, because she was travelling on tours, because the both of us were constantly practicing. I wish I could have had that 'mother-son' relationship, but we never did. Well, because of that I ended up where I am, but I'm not sure I want to repeat that with our kids. Would you be okay with that?"

I allowed a secret smile. "Yes," I agreed. "That's how I'd prefer it, too."

He leaned across the table and kissed me, a sweet, kind expression in his eyes. "Thank you."

Someday...someday when we're a little older, and more experienced, and I've caught up to him in violin...some golden day, we'll have tiny, adorable children, with serious eyes.

"In the meantime..." Len's eyes started to twinkle, and with a mischievous look, he pounced on me and lifted me into a bridal carry, heading for the bedroom.

"What are we doing?" I asked.  
><strong><br>**"Practice," he replied with a grin.

A little while later, lying side-by-side in sheets that smelled of lavender, we enjoyed the rare luxury of staring into each other's eyes, wordlessly. A lovely moment. How seldom there actually was time for this.

He reached out and stroked a few stray hairs from my cheek. I captured said hand in its leaving trajectory and pressed it to my lips.

"Ah, the memories," he said.

At last, he sighed and sat up, reaching for his shirt, which had somehow ended up draped on the lamp.

"I really should be practicing," he said.

I restrained a giggle. "Yeah, me too."

Author's Notes:

It's over! Okay, break out the Christmas crackers, I know you have them on hand as a "Finally! We thought it would never end!" celebration.

Admittedly, I'm a little disappointed to fall back on the oh-so-original Kahoko/Len pairing, but I think the round-aboutness of it all is a slight departure from the norm. Ah...but they really are meant to be together, no matter what way you look at it. And I really wanted to give Kahoko an appropriate musical accomplishment, because honestly, she worked damn hard during the course of the anime and manga, not to mention these fics.

I'm pretty unhappy about Ryou/Usa, for various reasons...but here they are, clawing at each other's throats like two jealous cats, when I'd hoped to separate them for good. I'm sorry! I really didn't mean for them to end up this way! Really really really!

Aaaand...that's it! I don't have time to write anymore...I really should be practicing...Bach and Beethoven beckon me back to the piano as usual.

Thanks so much for reading through these two (long) fics!

Arigatou gozaimasu, soshite, sayonara!


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